


Longing

by boy_if_you_dont214



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Ghostbur, Hybrid SMP, I'll be real with y'all I've never used ao3 before so I'm winging this as I go, Jschlatt - Freeform, Long, Maybe - Freeform, Minecraft, No shipping, Powers SMP - Freeform, Ranboo - Freeform, TommyInnit - Freeform, Tubbo - Freeform, Wilbur Soot - Freeform, i still dont know what the official name for it is so I'm just gonna keep using both of those, jack manifold - Freeform, mcyt - Freeform, philza - Freeform, warning for blood and bit of gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 63,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boy_if_you_dont214/pseuds/boy_if_you_dont214
Summary: Since their small community was created, the Hybrids have established their routines, accommodating for the pros and cons of living together and as themselves. It’s normal, it’s somewhat easy, and they’re starting to really grow on each other.But Wilbur’s long gone memory of a dead man is suddenly starting to come back; something in particular about another dimension hiding beyond the gates made of eyes. And he doesn’t know why.When word starts to spread, the goal is clear: there’s something there for everyone.It’s a race to the finish, to who can find this treasure first, while Wilbur struggles to deal with memories he didn’t know he had.
Comments: 54
Kudos: 112





	1. What the Storm Brought In

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever used Ao3 I am a lil overwhelmed LMAO
> 
> This entire story + the notes are completely copy-pasted from tumblr because that is my preferred site I'm gonna spam the first three chapters since those have already been posted.
> 
> Anyway this is my first ever big fic. It’s also my first fic I’ve ever published in general. Obviously a great choice since I’ve decided to balance 8 whole ass characters at the same time LMAO but anyway. I thought this would be fun and I just really wanted more content for the Powers/Hybrid SMP so here this is.  
> PLEASE give feedback if you like this fic. I will probably continue it either way, but I’d love to know if you guys enjoy it, thank you :]

There was something about the rain that Ranboo couldn’t help but love. Despite it’s constant danger, there was a beauty to it, a life that he loved watching pass by.

Maybe it was the sound. The quiet shower stimulated his ears for hours.

Or maybe the smell. That chilly, almost metallic smell. He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly he liked about it.

Or maybe it was what he saw. Like what was happening just then, when a little dot appeared against the gray clouds and began to approach.

Yeah, that was what he liked. In the rain, there was always activity. There was always movement happening somewhere. Jack was hiding with Tommy—as Ranboo was beneath a tree he got stuck under in that moment—Niki was able to emerge from her lagoon, and Wilbur was able to come out during the day. Tubbo was probably heading for Tommy’s just then.

And here came Phil. He soared through the storm, his robes and his hat shielding against the harsh rain coming down around them. Ranboo stood from where he sat against the tree trunk, his tail swaying behind him and a small warble of a joyful sound rumbling in his throat.

Phil reached to his hip, where he took the golden engraved scabbard and used it to take the brunt of his landing, his descent lighter with the support as he hit the ground.

“Hey, mate,” he called as he stepped over. He tipped his striped hat up, the shadow leaving his face. Rainwater collected along the rim and dripped off on to his back, between his gray wings that relaxed and shrunk against his shoulders. “Sorry, I got here a bit slow.”

“That’s okay,” Ranboo exclaimed. He didn’t step any closer, noticing quick how drenched his clothes were. Phil respected the boundary, his gaze down as he dug around in the large satchel at his hip.

“I tried my best to keep it as dry as I could,” Phil said, retrieving a large clump of fabric from his bag and tossing it once between his gloved hands. “But I’d be careful either way.”

“Sure, sure.”

Phil tossed the cloak across the way, Ranboo scrambling to gather it in his hands. “Thank-thank you.” With his free hand, he patted his back pocket, then his front, then the inside ones of his cloak, only to find them all empty. “I—Sorry, I don’t have any nuggets on me.”

Phil scoffed, waving his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But aren’t I interrupting the delivery process?”

“Tommy won’t die if he doesn’t have his diamonds in ten minutes.”

Ranboo simply hummed in response, peering down at the cloak in his hands. The soft dark purple fabric had white dots and Vs embroidered along it’s hem, that seemed to shimmer in the light.

“You want me to stick around for a while?” Phil offered, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed the clouds above him. “Or I could grab the umbrella from the house. It doesn’t look like the storm is picking up any time soon.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” Ranboo replied. He returned to his seat at the base of the tree, and unrolled the cloak, throwing it over his shoulders. “By the time the storm picks up a little, I can probably make it back home with the cloak and a little teleporting.”

Phil’s head tilted to the side, bright blue eyes peering through loose strands of blonde hair. “I’ll stick with you until then, anyway.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“I don’t, but I want to.” While still keeping his distance, Phil stepped under the canopy of the tree, where he removed his hat and shook the water from it’s rim. The leaves breathed in the breeze above them, and Ranboo shivered in the cold, pulling his cloak tighter across his shoulders.

“How’s home been?” Phil asked. Far on the other side of the tree, out of Ranboo’s sight, he could hear the man shaking the water out of his feathers.

“Fine,” Ranboo replied sheepishly, folding his legs and turning to face him. “It’s been nice, settling in. The ravine is beautiful, you should come down and see how it’s turning out.”

“I might.” He said the two, simple words with a slight bitterness. Ranboo could guess why; Phil was good at hiding it, but he hated the caverns. He quickly regretted even thinking about asking.

“You-You don’t have to,” he quickly added.

At that, Phil snickered a little. He placed his hat back on, securing it with bands that looped beneath his ears and over black fabric covering his skin along his jawline. “Been workin’ on my own place. High up, nice and cool, easy to fly from.”

Ranboo found himself smiling. “That sounds nice.”

Phil was smiling, too. There were small scars on his face that looked a lot more defined whenever he grinned. “It is.”

Ranboo wasn’t sure how he caught it. But just in two words, he heard something solemn in his tone. Whatever that meant, Ranboo knew he felt it, too; something longing.

Maybe that was why they’d become friends.

•••

Niki emerged on shore with a bright blue tail, limp fins stuck to her skin, and shifting gills that sucked up the rain around her.

Within moments of touching land, the shiny, glittery blue skin around her feet shed away, allowing her to take her legs and stretch them out, the skirt tied around her waist dropping closer to her knees. With the storm continuing to rage on around her, she scrambled up to her feet, excited and bouncy on her toes.

Wilbur’s mansion loomed over the shoreline. There was one wooden step that Niki could stand on and remain out from under the balcony roof, and that one step whined loudly, even over the storm’s noise.

“Hello, Wilbur!” she cried through the storm. Walls creaked and moaned in the harsh wind, of which Niki had to shield herself against with her arm. It’s cold didn’t affect her much—she’d experienced colder out in the ocean.

For a moment, there was no response. Niki’s eyes darted to each window, to the boarded up door. Old wind chimes rang from where they hung over the old porch. Ivy ripped up the walls and blew violently in the wind.

“Hello, Niki!”

Niki squealed at the voice that came from behind her. She snapped around, coming face to face with the young man and his bright, glowing green eyes behind her. His grin was just as bright, and the wind swept up in the curls lopped over his forehead.

Niki’s brief jump was replaced with her excitement. “Quite the storm, huh?”

“The roof caved in!” He made the statement as if it barely mattered.

Niki’s lip curled, and she glanced up at the roof. Sure enough, there was a hole there. “Oh.”

“Can we go under a tree?” Wilbur called. “It’s kinda hard to talk out here in the wind.”

The nearest large tree was beside the mansion. The size and width suggested it’s age was well beyond a century, possibly standing as long as the mansion itself had.

Niki sat in the rain, and a few inches in front of her was Wilbur, still grinning widely with his hands in his lap.

“The plants wilted the other day,” Niki said, a mix of solemness and contentness in her tone. She drew shapes in the mud with her claw as she spoke. “They didn’t last long.”

Wilbur’s eyes softened. His hand stroked through his curls. Around the edge of his form was a hazy blue glow, and the strands of his hair tinted this color hovered above his head like he was underwater. His short, dark blue cloak with a longer V shaped tail had this same affect, the back side of it hovering in the same fashion as his curls.

“That’s a shame,” he muttered, his gaze darting down to Niki’s drawings in the mud. “But you got to see them, at least.”

“I know you worked hard to get those for me. The Nether trips are long, I should’ve thought a little more.”

“But I wanted to know if they’d stay, too,” Wilbur replied, leaning a few inches closer. “They didn’t, but...”

“It’s okay. I loved seeing them either way.”

Wilbur’s smile loosened a little. “I wish you could see them for yourself.”

Niki could have sworn there was more disappointment in Wilbur’s voice than there was in hers. The truth was, she’d started settling with the idea that she’d never see the other dimension. She’d already come to peace with it in the past. But as soon as Wilbur, damned daredevil he was for even thinking of the idea of gathering a bunch of idiots out here, heard of her shortcomings, his life—death?—goal became her and her journey on land, if it ever became possible.

“So what about you?” she exclaimed, taking the topic off herself. “How’s the mansion going? Find anything new yet?”

Wilbur shrugged. He had a grass blade in his hands, and he was picking at it between his fingers idly as he spoke. “Well. I’ve found a few more books I didn’t know I had.”

“Did they bring back anything?”

“No.” His voice dropped a little. “But they did give me some more info on our land. There’s old mines below us that are well over a hundred years old. Said it was where the most diamonds in the region were ever found.”

Niki giggled, resting her chin in her hand. “Right, and now all of it belongs to Tubbo, now, the little hoarder.”

“I tried to pay him to give me some,” Wilbur laughed, his hand gestures speaking with him. “But I’m pretty sure he almost bit my fingers off.”

Niki snickered. “He’s a funny little man.”

A beat of silence fell. Wilbur took a deep breath—a breath that wheezed, just a little. It was natural, Niki realized, and she always theorized that it came from whatever killed him, however long ago that was. She wasn’t sure if he ever noticed it, but she didn’t see it fair to let him know, let him become self conscious.

“I hope to find more answers in the book someday,” he said, longing in his tone. “Maybe more spells, or potions, and whatnot. It could help me find out what happened. And maybe even help you come on land.”

At that, Niki’s grin faded. “You don’t have to do that much for me. You’ve already done a lot.”

“And I don’t regret it at all. You told me you wanted to explore the world.”

“On my own terms,” she added. “I’d find out how on my own. I love my water, Wilbur. I never want to be away from it forever. But there’s a lot I haven’t seen. And that choice is mine to make, and mine to work on, do you understand?”

There was a moment, only brief, where Wilbur seemed to consider arguing, only to fall silent. The mischief in his eyes faded. “Yeah.”

Niki’s small smile returned to her face, as she reached forward and took Wilbur’s hand. “But I’ll surely let you come with me, if you wanted to.”

•••

Tommy emerged up at the top of an old, dead tree, which towered hundreds of feet above the tops of the pines and oaks below.

Soaking wet, he shook off the rainwater from his hands and the feathers stuck to them, then opened the small, colorful wings at his back.

“Don’t shake!”

Tommy jumped, squealing and shouting as he spun around to face the inside of the hut.

Jack sat by the window, holding out a hand, his fingers glinting gold in the torch light around them. There were scales on them that shuddered when he was anxious, and it gave Tommy a fright, as well.

“Gods, man! Shit, fucking—“ Tommy backed away, hand scrambling for one of the blankets on the bed nearby. He used it to scrub into his hair and dry it out, nudging little orange feathers on his cheeks as he did so. “Don’t do that!”

“I didn’t want to get wet!”

“You could’ve warned me without giving me a heart attack!”

“I’m sorry!”

Groaning, Tommy took the blanket and threw it over his wings, twisting around to try and squeeze the rainwater out.

He watched Jack as he did so, and the way he stared out into the storm with his own blanket over his shoulders.

Tommy scowled. There was a small tremble in Jack’s shoulders. “You can start a fire, y’know. That’s kind of your thing.”

“Tried.”

A pause. Tommy blinked, tossing aside the blanket and approaching Jack’s side. “What do you mean you tried?”

Jack looked over, rose his hand, and opened his palm. Where Tommy expected a flame, only a spark flashed, then died not even as big as a candle.

Frowning, Tommy sat at the opposite end of the bed. “Could it be the storm?”

“Maybe.” But there was uncertainty in Jack’s tone. He shivered a little more.

Tommy gritted his teeth, scowling as he looked over his friend. His red and blue goggles sat on the nightstand nearby, so here, he could see the bright, glittering gold in his eyes, which matched small horns poking out of dark hair.

He mostly looked the same. Maybe a little paler, but... “Gimme your hand, for a second,” Tommy said.

Jack hesitated, scowling at him. But after a moment of pondering, he listened, extending his hand, palm up.

Tommy pressed his fingers to his palm.

Cool. Not any more heat to him than Tommy himself would’ve had.

“That’s colder than yesterday.”

“I know,” Jack replied. “But I think that, maybe, when I really set in, I’ll be fine. Find some magma pools, go for a bit of a swim, yeah?”

Tommy didn’t seem any more convinced than Jack was. “Fuck, maybe. I dunno. Maybe...”

“I’m not going back there, Tommy.”

The demanding tone made Tommy quickly change his mind. He stood up again, pulling his goggles from his hair and putting them on the dresser nearby. He didn’t speak again as he removed his cape, squeezed the water out in a bucket nearby, then tossed it near the unlit fireplace.

“How’s the wing?” Jack asked.

Automatically, Tommy tested his left wing, where there was nothing more than a small ache. “Fine.”

“You remember what Phil told you?”

“Yes, I remembered what Phil fucking told me. I have not flapped my wings, I am only using them for necessary gliding and running, blah, blah, blah.”

“You know he’s right.”

“Yeah. Phil’s always right.”

Tommy removed the leather straps protecting his ankles, talons scraping along the wooden floorboards as he did so. He took off his gloves, too, tossing everything that was soaked in the rain towards the fireplace.

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurting yourself,” Jack added.

“Fuck you.”

Tommy stepped up to his side, and held out something wrapped and tied in red fabric. “Here.”

“Oh.” Jack snatched up the fabric and pulled it away, the bread inside quickly being eaten. “This is good. Is it Tubbo’s?”

“Yeah, because of course it is.”

“We should pay him for bread more often.”

Tommy knelt at the fireplace, scraping flint and steel once, before stopping briefly. He peered over at Jack, who was still eating, and grew a little curious. “You know how to light a fire without using your powers, right?”

Jack looked over, ready to answer, only to fall short.

Tommy snorted, his smirk returning. “C’mere.”

Jack hesitated, slowly setting aside his bread, then standing up to kneel at Tommy’s side.

“Take these,” Tommy directed, handing the flint and steel to him. “And scrape them together, hard, until the fire lights.”

Jack held the objects like they were forbidden. Slowly, hesitantly, he did as told, scraping the flint a few times before, finally, a spark was made. “Oh!”

Tommy snickered, standing up and pacing back towards his side of the house. “We invented fire a long time ago, buddy. We can be like you.”

“It’s not as hot,” Jack said, extending his hand towards the growing fire. The flames danced around his fingers as if they were nothing.

Tommy’s smile disappeared, and he snorted, folding his arms over his chest in a pout. “Yeah, well. That’s Overworld for you.”

The conversation would’ve continued if not for the noises that suddenly came from below them. Scowling, Tommy’s hand hovered over the hilt of his sword as he approached the trap door leading down to the ladder.

The trap door flew open. His grip on the sword quickly loosened as soon as he saw the brown curls on the other side, and Tubbo was scrambling to get through and close the door behind him.

“Knock, next time, please,” Tommy ordered, but his annoyance was gone when Tubbo stood straight and showed off a strong smile.

“Sorry,” he said, though it didn’t sound entirely sincere compared to the joy that was there, too. “But I have something to show you.”

The antennae sprouting from his hair shuddered a little when he was this excited, and Tommy couldn’t stay angry when he saw it.

Tubbo clapped his hands together. He wasn’t wearing gloves that day, so the flat purple armor could be seen clear where it sat on his knuckles and the back of his hand. “Someone throw something at me! Something small!”

He was barely even able to finish his sentence before Jack tossed over the flint in his hand.

Tubbo yelped, leaning back with his hands close to his chest in order to catch it.

But he never did. Instead, the flint hovered in mid-air.

Tommy shouted as he watched Tubbo move his hands higher, the flint listening to his command. His smile grew as he waved his hand upward, the flint flying back into Jack’s hand.

“What the fuck!”

Tubbo smiled directly at Tommy as soon as he yelled. “I know, right?!”

“You couldn’t do that before?” Jack exclaimed.

Tubbo shook his head. “It’s new! I figured it out last night!”

“How do you do that?!” Tommy yelled, taking Tubbo’s hand and looking into his palm, as if it would give him any answers.

Tubbo paused, his mouth hanging open as he tried to come up with an answer. “I don’t know! I did it on accident! And, and I haven’t exactly been able to stop.”

“Wait, really?” Tommy dropped his hand.

Tubbo’s smile didn’t drop as he added, “I haven’t touched a small object in over 24 hours!”

A pause. Then, Tommy snorted, followed by his loud, heavy laugh that got Tubbo laughing, too.

“Have you tried it on people?” Jack called. “Try it on people.”

“Try it on me!” Tommy exclaimed. “I have light bones! Try it on me!”

Still giggling, Tubbo wandered backward, his hands hovering in front of him. “I, I dunno if that’ll work—“

“Try it anyway!”

With one more laugh, Tubbo nodded, and extended his hand toward Tommy.

Tommy stood there with his hands outstretched for at least half a minute before Tubbo sighed, dropping his hands. “I can’t lift you.”

Tommy snorted, waving his hand. “We’ll get there someday, we’ll get there someday. You’re gonna lift me someday.”

“Maybe you’re just too heavy,” Tubbo argued.

Tommy’s response was a pinched scowl on his face and a punch to Tubbo’s shoulder, of which Tommy immediately reacted to with, “Ow!”

•••

Ranboo’s attention was brought back to Phil when he stepped forward and eyed the skies above them. “Looks like it might be settling a little,” he said, then looked back at Ranboo, who was still sitting against the base of the tree behind him. “Wanna give it a go?”

Hesitantly, Ranboo rose to his feet. His tail swished the more anxious he got, as he stepped closer to examine the state of the weather. “Y-Yeah,” he stuttered, partially to himself. He lifted the hood over his head, putting long, fluffy ears through the holes at the sides. “Yeah, I think I can make it.”

“I’ll be right here for you, okay?” Phil replied. 

Ranboo nodded, eyeing the trees and the stones littering the area around the sides of the lagoon. “Yeah, the entrance to the shaft is over there, behind a few trees. If I can make it past the water, I can get under the trees quickly, and...”

“You’ll be fine, it’s just a few seconds,” Phil insisted. “You’ll barely get tapped. I’ll be here if something goes wrong.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re right, okay. Okay.”

Rubbing his hands together, Ranboo took a careful step backwards.

He bounded across the grass. As soon as he was out from under the tree, there was a flash of a moment where he felt his body dissolve, quickly reassembling moments after on the other side of the lake.

A raindrop on the back of his hand felt like a bee sting. It was only a moment’s worth of a feeling before he was under the next tree, a bit closer to the old, raggedy entrance to the mineshaft down the way.

Ranboo exhaled his held breath, eyeing the little dot on his hand that still stung, just a bit.

Phil suddenly landed beside him, closing his wings as he touched ground. “You’re getting better.”

“Still tiring, but better,” Ranboo replied, a hand rested on the tree trunk beside him. “Thanks for staying with me.”

“No problem, mate. Don’t got anything much better to do.”

“Not even Tommy’s diamonds?”

The lightness to Phil’s voice faltered a little. “He can wait.”

Again, Ranboo regretted his words as soon as they’d left his throat. He switched topics quickly. “Will you be able to make it home in this storm?”

“I’ve flown worse, trust me. I’ll be fine. Just get out of the rain.”

Ranboo simply nodded. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Probably. But who knows.” Phil adjusted his hat, and the cloak over his shoulders. “I’m settin’ out.”

Ranboo watched as he stepped back out from beneath the trees, which were still hushing above them in the strong wind the storm brought. Phil's wings expanded, longer and longer until they took up most of Ranboo's vision, hiding the lake behind them.

They rose up, and Phil crouched. One hard flap of wings, and he was in the sky, a gust of air blasting back along Ranboo’s front. He rose his arm to block the leaves and twigs that blew in his direction.

The grass swayed around his ankles. With his hood still up, Ranboo turned, heading for the mineshaft within the nearby cliffside.

•••

Every time Wilbur was sure he’d read every book in his library, he’d quickly prove himself wrong.

He’d realized a while before then that there was a reason why he’d been so drawn to the mansion; there were scrolls and scriptures with his name written within them, in a curling cursive he could only dream of writing in now. 

His name was written everywhere. It wasn’t hard to work out who it belonged to. If he hadn’t remembered his name, though, he wasn’t sure he’d have ever realized.

The library sat in a room beneath the main building, tall and wide with walls of spines of books covering every inch. For all the time he’d been here, he could’ve sworn he’d flipped through every page that existed in the room.

During the night, when nothing was going on, when everyone was asleep or busy, he was going through parts of the mansion he was aware he hadn’t touched on yet.

The library was a part of his exploration that night. He had a feeling that, if he was going to learn anything, it would’ve been learned from there.

More scrolls with his name on them. The one he’d found, mostly faded with time, documented a journey to and from an unknown location. He could only set it aside; these scrolls, aside from mentioning parts of his life without context, had no real significance to them.They just added on to the piles and piles of questions and feelings of longing that Wilbur already had.

The books on the shelf above his head were faded into dim colors. Cobwebs connected them to each other, and there were plenty that had been destroyed from the elements.

His hands grazed along the books he paced by, pulling the most interesting from the shelf and collecting them into his arms as he went.

But one didn’t come from the shelf.

He stopped, there, scowling at the red book he held in the shelf. He tried to pull it off, but it barely budged.

A harder tug brought loud clang to echo from somewhere within the guts of the mansion.

Wilbur flinched at the sound. That was... new. He pulled a few more times, listening to the metal clang it made each time.

It took him a moment to realize what he’d found, but when he did, he was ecstatic; secret room. His alive self installed a secret room.

It was either locked, or the door was broken. Either way, it didn’t matter.

Wilbur’s hand in front of him disappeared in a moment. He hovered downwards through the floorboards, deeper underground.

He would’ve missed the room if not for the smell; an old, musty, metallic smell, unique to the dust and smoky one of the mansion above ground.

His body flashed back into view as he touched stone brick floor. The hazy blue glow around the edges of his body was the only light source down there.

The moment he stood fully in the room, he felt... something. His heart picked up speed, a pit formed in his stomach. Pins and needles formed in his fingers. He couldn’t identify what made him so anxious, and whether or not he was really happy to have found this.

The door was behind him. Rubble held it shut.

On each wall at either side of him, there were tables, the left one stacked with old, faded scrolls and books caked in dust and webbing. The right was covered in a torn white sheet.

At the far end of the room, four chests created a ring, all locked, some with objects that leaked out in some way.

At the center of that ring, was an empty armorstand.

Wilbur paused in the center of the room. His hands hesitantly hovered over the papers at his left, but his curiosity truly lied in the sheet on his right. He put down the books he’d collected and turned to the sheet, extending his hands.

It was only then, where his eyes trailed down and he noticed the tremble in his fingers.

Why was he so afraid of something he couldn’t remember?

His fingers curled into the fabric. With a small, wheezy sigh, he yanked the fabric free.

The first thing he saw on the wall was a large map. It took him only a moment to see the lagoon, and the surrounding camp, before it was anything more than an isolated mansion off in the woods. There was a red pin on it, and around his home were old paper notes, placed aside thick lines written in ink.

Written on the notes were small reminders or cons to whatever routes were drawn; “A village this way that would be affected by it. Maybe farther north?” or, “Flat terrain, unaffected,” or, “Jagged terrain, off in the mountains, most probable option.”

He needed to go somewhere. That revelation was followed by the urge; there was somewhere he was meant to be. Or, at the very least, had a such a desperate want for that it had followed him into death.

He looked down below the map. There was a paper flattened out on the desk, and at the side was a bowl. A large wooden one, covered by a white towel.

Wilbur didn’t hesitate to pluck the towel away.

Sitting inside were... some sort of treasure? Blueish green orbs, with a strange dim glow to them. The core was dark, and picking them up felt like picking up little universes with windows to look through.

He set down the ball. Too cold and eerie for him. His attention moved over to the paper pinned to the table right in the center. An old quill sat abandoned nearby.

Wilbur leaned close to examine it. An illustration took over most of the page, an uneven square frame shape made up more squares and circular objects inside.

It was like a spark. This shape, just the paper, whatever it was about it, it set off a hundred images flashing in his head.

He heard swords clanging. Something about eyes. Papers rustling, armor, someone, maybe himself, swearing—

The End.

That was what that place was called.

He wasn’t sure how he knew. But this simple reminder had brought back a memory of an alien place where his lungs felt empty and yet he still breathed. Where his heart seemed to stop and yet he still stood.

The End. A place both younger and older than his existence. A world untouched and forever scarred.

The mix of emotions was overwhelming. His balance wavered, and he staggered away from the desk until he was running into the table behind him.

The End. He couldn’t be sure how he got there, and why he would’ve wanted to go so badly. What was there that was so important, he couldn’t be sure of.

Each quick, shallow breath wheezed out of him, and his thoughts rushed in his head. He forced himself to turn around and examine the books and scrolls behind him.

There was nothing on the End. All of it was on history of the Nether, just literally everything cast unnecessary and totally boring compared to what Wilbur had just found.

He looked back towards the map. No scrolls, no books.

He stepped across the room and pushed open the chests. Just clothes and supplies for armor, or weapons. He spun back around.

There was a metal bucket on the floor. It was the last thing he looked at, and immediately, his heart sank.

There were scrolls. But they were singed with ancient ash.

“No, no,” he muttered, digging in the bucket and collecting the scraps. Some words remained; maybe his past self regretted the choice, he couldn’t be sure, but what mattered was what was still there.

“The eyes seem to show the path,” one of them said. “I need more of them. My last one broke. I need to hunt down more Endermen, but I’m not sure if—“  
Wilbur’s heart lurched. There was even more in his hands, just crumbs of knowledge, no context.

But maybe, just maybe, he could piece it together.

If he could make sense of the end of his life, maybe he could work out the rest of it.


	2. Cold Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro idk what I'm doing ao3 has chapter summary AND notes??? wtf am I supposed to do with this  
> anyway lol
> 
> Warnings: Tommyinnit is in this so lots of swearing, obviously

Wilbur hadn’t come out of the mansion in over a day.

Phil never had the advantage of explaining that away as him getting sick, or sleeping in. Damn kid didn’t even need to constantly blink if it weren’t for the habit.

That was why Phil stood on his doorstep, right before sunrise of the next day. Even when Wilbur couldn’t step out in sunlight, he had his porch, his tree. As far as he knew, he hadn’t even had his daily conversation with Niki, and that was where things got weird.

His wings closed against his back as he stepped on to the creaky porch. He reached up over the boarded up door, and tapped a few knocks on the wall. “Will? It’s Phil.”

No reply.

“I was just wondering where you’ve been,” Phil continued. “Niki was worried. She didn’t see you yesterday.”

Again, silence.

Phil scowled, pacing over to the nearest window, also boarded up. He peered through the slats between the boards, into the dark living room on the other side. No one.

Maybe he just wasn’t there. He knew that Wilbur liked to stay in caves until he grew hungry enough to return to the surface. But for a full day, without telling anyone?

“Wilbur?” he called again. “If you’re home, please, just ease my nerves a bit.”

“H-Hi, Phil.”

Phil spun around, only finding nothing. He turned back to the front window, looking through, trying to find where the voice came from. “Hey, mate. You invisible right now? Just doing Ghostbur things?”

“Y-Yeah. I got kinda busy, s-so.”

His voice was uneven. “Wilbur, what’s going on? Is something wrong? Where are you right now?”

No response. Phil kept looking in his surroundings, hoping the kid would appear somewhere. “Niki was worried. You didn’t go talk to her yesterday.”

“Oh. Oh, shit. Yeah, I didn’t, did I?”

“What were you doing all night?”

“Uh… important, important things. You, you wouldn’t get it. I’d have to explain a lot.”

Phil scowled. His hands grew antsy near his sword’s hilt. “If something is wrong, you can tell me.”

“I know. And I will. Just… not right now.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Phil had to think for a moment, whether he was willing to pry or not.

He did have work to do that day.

He’d check in on him later.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he called to the air, backing off the porch. “Make sure you at least tell Niki you’re okay.”

“Okay. I will.”

“I’ll see you later, Ghostbur.”

“Bye.”

Phil didn’t realize what he’d been leaving behind. But at least he could say he hesitated to fly off that morning.

•••

“Niki.”

Wilbur knew she probably couldn’t hear it in the water. But he whispered the name all the same, like he was attempting to manifest her as he waved his hand through the water and attempted to get her attention.

He could see her shape drift through the water below, her blue tail glimmering like gems in the sunlight that leaked through. Her pink hair was just as bright, shifting around her shoulders gracefully.

He splashed the water a little harder. Of course she wouldn’t have come looking right away, Wilbur was invisible, this could’ve been anything. But he kept splashing and smacking the surface of the water, hoping she got the message.

Eventually, he spotted her turn, pause, then begin to surface, right beneath the dock Wilbur knelt on.

She broke the surface, her hands coming up to smooth her hair back as bright blue eyes met the sky. Niki looked confused, eyeing the area with a pinched scowl on her face, searching for the source of the disruption.

“Niki.”

She squealed at Wilbur’s voice. “Wilbur? What—Where are you right now?”

“Above you, on the dock,” he said.

“Where have you been?” she cried, taking the edge of the dock and pulling herself higher out of the water. “You didn’t even tell me you’d be gone yesterday.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I guess I just, uh, lost track of time. But, but I have something I need to show you. Can you meet me in the Glass Room in the mansion?”

Niki hesitated. “I… I guess. Are you okay, Wilbur?”

“I’ll explain everything in the Glass Room.”

The dock creaked, and Niki could only hear his footsteps as he made his exit.

•••

For a second time, Tommy was startled by knocking, this time coming from the window.

“Who’s that?” Jack called from his bed, where was fiddling with a whetstone and his sword in his lap. Tubbo was nearby, his small knife hovering between his hands.

Tommy didn’t respond, instead approaching the nearby window and pulling it open.

Phil stood on the other side, perched with his feet on the edge of the house and one hand holding the window for support.

“Hello, Phil,” Tommy said stiffly, eyeing the man with confusion.

Phil’s wings were outstretched behind him, feathers spiking in the wind this high up. “You paid me short yesterday.”

“No, I didn’t,” Tommy sneered.

Scowling, Phil reached into his bag, scrambled for a second, then extended a piece of paper to him. “Twenty gold pieces for sixteen diamonds. You paid me seventeen.”

“Fuck off, I did not.”

“Do I need to show you the sack you gave me?”

Tommy’s gaze darkened. “No. Can’t you just, like, give me a discount? Old times sake?”

“If I gave you a discount for ‘old times sake,’ I’d have to give Wilbur one for old times sake, then Ranboo one for friend’s sake. I have a business goin’ here, Tommy.”

Groaning, Tommy stepped away from the window. “Come in, I guess.”

The boys on the other side of the room watched as Phil clambered in, his wings barely fitting inside. “Hi, Phil!” Tubbo called, raising his hand to wave, only for the hovering knife to go sliding across the floor.

Phil scowled, folding his arms over his chest. “What’s that all about?”

“I haven’t touched a small object in 36 hours. Maybe more.”

“You can make stuff fly?”

“Yeah!”

Phil nodded, stepping over and watching as Tubbo grabbed the knife from across the room again. “How’s that make sense?”

“I don’t know! It’s just a thing that happened the other day, and I haven’t been able to stop.”

“Huh. That’s cool.”

Their conversation was cut off when a pouch was thrown against Phil’s wing. He stood straight, turning and looking over at Tommy, who stood on the other side of the hut with his arms folded and a pouty scowl on his face. “There’s your payment.”

Phil didn’t take it without examining the contents first. Three gold pieces. He stored the pouch in his satchel.”Thank you.”

“Yeah, uh-huh. You’re welcome.”

“Pay me the right amount next time and we won’t have to do this.”

Tommy copied his sentence in a mocking tone, before adding lowly, “Why not? It’s the only time you ever come to see me.”

While Phil did feel that pang of guilt, he forcefully shrugged it off in favor of turning back to address Tubbo. “You sure you can control all that?”

“I’ll be fine, really. It’s awesome, though, isn’t it?”

Phil didn’t respond for a moment. He reached forward,taking Tubbo’s wrist, and examining his hand. “Yeah.”

“Something wrong?” Jack asked.

“No,” Phil replied. “It’s just… this magic seems really familiar.”

Tommy shoved Phil’s wing out of the way to get to Tubbo’s side. “Well, I don’t think Tubbo needs you poking him like a test animal. Or whatever they’re called.”

Phil fell silent. His wings flared against his back, and he took a step closer to the window. “Tubbo, if you ever feel as if you need help with this, then you can come to me.”

Tubbo’s gaze softened. His antennae flickered a little, an illustration of his thoughts. “Okay. Thanks, Phil.”

Tommy scoffed, shoving Phil’s shoulder. “Okay, get out! Out of our house!”

Phil gave Tommy no response, even when the kid was pounding on his shoulder and shoving him towards the window.  
He was halfway out the window when he leaned back in and asked one more question; “You taking care of that wing like how I told you to?”

“Yes! Yes, shut up about the wing, get out!”

As soon as Phil took off, as soon as he was gone, the house fell silent.

Jack cleared his throat, breaking through the tension. “That was interesting.”

•••

The Glass Room was Niki’s visiting tank, decorated colorfully with coral and the occasional fish that had wandered inside from the open tunnel. The room was bathed in the blue light of the water, turning everything inside that same color.

Wilbur got there at the same time Niki did. She emerged from the tunnel below, tail glittering with the smooth movements she made. 

Wilbur appeared in the middle of the room. As soon as she saw him, Niki swum upward to the opening above, once again slicking back her hair and peering down over the edge. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

A pause. Wilbur walked to the wall, where a ladder led up to a separate platform that brought him closer to Niki.  
He had a satchel over his shoulder. His hands had a tremble to them as he removed it from his shoulder.

Scrolls and notebooks were gathered in Wilbur’s lap. Niki leaned a bit closer, tucking hair behind her pointed ears as she watched.

“I found something last night,” Wilbur explained. “It was a secret room. The door was blocked off.”

Niki’s eyes darkened.

“I found so much stuff, Niki,” he went on, unrolling the scrolls, opening the books to their bookmarks, throwing his now empty satchel on the floor behind him. “And all of it in his… my, handwriting. My name is everywhere.”

For a long moment, Niki was silent. 

“There’s a huge map downstairs. And, and this.” He unrolled the scroll with the frame of eyes, turning it around and holding it up high.

Niki leaned close, narrowing her eyes. The black slits against blue irises widened a little at the sight. “What… is it?” she asked, her mouth hanging open as she stared. Fangs shined in the light coming from below her. “It looks like a portal, but…”

“Squarer,” Wilbur added. “With eyes on it.” He put aside the frame’s print, and retrieved the scraps he’d collected. “Alive me, for some reason, was going to burn the pages, but I must’ve changed my mind last minute. I don’t know why.”

He held out the scraps of papers. Niki only stared with big, curious eyes.

“They’re ingredients.” His shaky hand gestured to the text and bits of illustrations left behind, only hints along the edges of the torn pages. “Blaze powder, Ender Pearls, mixing bowls, obsidian, flint and steel…”

“A Nether Portal?” Niki squeaked.

Wilbur nodded. “Seems like it. And, and then there’s like a list, there’s… It talks about, like, libraries, ships, castles.” He grabbed another. “And then, and then this last one, it… I don’t know. Something about a beast. Crystals, I don’t know, the page is too torn up.”

“Wilbur, what is this?”

Wilbur fell silent.

“What did you find?” Niki breathed, concern etched in every part of her voice. “What is this all about?”

Her eyes were glued on to his. Wilbur swore he couldn’t remember any other time she’d looked this worried.  
He breathed, looking down at his mess of papers surrounding him, and the eerie contents that felt much too familiar. “I think I’ve figured out how I died.”

•••

Ranboo couldn’t see the bottom of his ravine. He always crept along the edges, easy and smooth with a balance Phil once claimed was incomparable. 

The place was still new, so the extent of decor were piles of crates and gear left unorganized. Many of it were on ridges only accessible by him up above, where he could teleport without much consequence.

What he kept the highest was a crate of books. It was where he was just then, sat on the edge of the stone with a book in his lap. Written inside was lines upon lines, pages upon pages of dots and lines scribbled in a language only he could read.

This was his only diary. And it was his favorite pass time. There had been a lot of entries ever since he’d been brought here.

“Ranboo?”

The sudden call made Ranboo flinch, a little squeak of a sound escaping his throat, as he examined the darkness for the source of the voice.  
It was Phil, the light of a torch in his hand lighting the way.

“Phil?” Ranboo stood, teleporting down to the path beside him.

Phil’s wings flared, the only sign of his wariness. “This place isn’t bad. Not bad at all.”

“Thanks,” Ranboo replied, his hands folding together anxiously in front of him. “What’re you doing here? I thought you didn’t want to come down here.”

“Well, I didn’t think it fair to never come check out your place, like you offered,” he explained. “And, uh, I had an odd question for you. Two, actually.”

“Important enough to warrant coming down here, huh?” Ranboo asked warily. 

Phil nodded, trading hands to hold the torch. “Did you happen to see Wilbur come down here last night, or the day before?”

Ranboo blinked. He took a moment tor recall his previous day and night, tail swishing behind him, a visual of his thoughts. “No, don’t think so. He probably would’ve said hello if he had. He likes to make sure I know he’s coming so I don’t get scared and teleport.”

Phil didn’t respond for a moment. “Okay. Second question, Tubbo mentioned something about new powers. I was wondering if you were feeling anything… different.”

“Different?” Ranboo squeaked. “Mmm, no. But maybe just because so much has been happening lately. Have you?”

“Maybe.” Phil scratched at the scruff on his chin, and eyed the stone below his feet. “It does feel like something has changed. It may be because we’re all together, now. Something about magic, something I’m not smart enough to figure out.”

“Did Wilbur notice anything?”

“He noticed something, at least. He’s acting strange.”

“What about Niki? Tommy? Jack?”

“Niki seems fine. Tommy probably wouldn’t tell me. Jack seems occupied with getting used to the Overworld. It seems like Tubbo, Wilbur and I are the only ones who feel any changes.”

Ranboo’s fluffy ears bent downwards. “Well, I’ll let you know if it goes differently. I’ve been busy, though, so I could’ve been distracted.”

“Maybe we should talk to Tubbo together.”

“Are you sure this is even connected?”

“No, but no one else is gonna address it. I’ve dealt with plenty of magic in my time, and I wouldn’t want to put everything we’ve built at risk.”

At that, Ranboo shifted uncomfortably. He was aware of just how much care the others had, as did he; this place was too perfect to lose. 

Right?

“I’ll stick with you,” Ranboo said. “Just let me know if there are any changes.”

•••

Tommy returned to the house with a heavy satchel and an achy left wing. He swore as he kicked the trapdoor closed behind him, and yanked off his goggles, hair frizzing and eyes squinting against the bright light.

“Jaaack, I got more Tubbo bread. Tubbread.”

No reply.  
Scowling, he looked up. “Why’re you ignoring me?”

In Jack’s bed was just a lump of blankets and pillows stacked on top of each other. Tommy scowled, turning on his heels and approaching the bedside. “Jacky-boy. Manifold.”

He shook the lump of blankets. He took the end and yanked it back, wondering if there was even a person under there at all.  
But he was, quickly snatching up the blanket and pulling it back. “Stop that.”

“What the hell, man?” Tommy asked, his aggression in his tone hiding the slight bit of concern he was feeling. “Since when did you sleep in?”

“Since today,” Jack muttered from underneath, voice muffled by the layers hiding him. 

“What, are you sick?”

“No!”

At that, Tommy’s nose scrunched up in a scowl. “Gimme your hand.”

“What? No.”

Tommy didn’t listen, ripping away the blankets and taking Jack’s hand. 

His skin next to the gold scales of his fingers was chilled. Tommy only had a second to feel it before Jack groaned, pulled his hand back, and buried himself under the blankets again.  
“Fuck, man,” Tommy exclaimed. “You’re… cold, compared to me.”

“I’m fine,” Jack argued. “I’ll get used to it.”

“You said that yesterday. This does not look like getting used to it.”

“Okay, really, does it matter, at this point? I’ll be fine. I wasn’t gonna be okay on the first few days, obviously.”

“You’re getting worse.”

“I sneezed on the first day, and you practically had a heart attack and went diving head first into the lava to get the Nether supplies back.”

“Fuck off.”

“It’s true! I’m trying to say I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look fine, Jack. You can’t even get out of bed. There, there’s gotta be some way–”

“If you say there’s gotta be some way to get back to the Nether…” For the first time, Jack pushed down the blankets, glaring daggers into Tommy. “I’m gonna lose it.”

“But if I…”

Tommy’s argument was talked over by Jack’s, but he kept speaking while Jack did, too. “I would rather feel like this here, then be down there–”

“–what am I supposed to do if you’re not okay?”

“–It was dangerous to have the portal open, anyway–”

“–The portal didn’t do shit–”

“Tommy!”

Tommy groaned, spinning around and shrugging off his vest.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to open up the portal again?” Jack went on, finally pushing himself to sit up, only to toss a blanket over his shoulders. “After how it started affecting Niki’s pond? Or, or Wilbur, who can’t even step outside in the sun without getting burnt?“

Tommy fell silent. 

“And I don’t want to go back. I hated the Nether. It’s too lonely down there. I’d rather freeze up here with you than be comfortable down there alone.”

All there was between them for a long moment was tension. Tommy sighed, pacing along the house, talons dragging on wood. “Well, you’re not lasting up here long like this.”

Jack didn’t respond. 

“Maybe Wilbur might have something,” Tommy thought aloud, scratching at his chin. “He’s the one with the books, and everything.”

“I’m not sure how many times someone has seen something like this.”

“Eh, I’m sure there’s something.”

Jack paused, dark, tired eyes darting away. “Well, I’ll come with you, then.”

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

“I’m not gonna make you try to fix me all alone. I mean, what’d that mean about me?”

Tommy sighed. His wings fluttered at his back. “Fuck sake. Fine.”

“Moving around could help me, too.”

“Oh, shut up.”

•••

Even at night, Niki’s tail glistened. The moonlight decorated it in sparkles out in the lagoon, a bright blue that practically glowed.

Her and Wilbur sat near the docks in long, heavy silence, as a soft breeze swept through the lagoon and crickets chirped in the forest. 

“What’s this mean for you?” 

Niki’s question yanked Wilbur roughly back into reality. “What, what do you mean?”

“What will you do, now? You’d spent so much time looking for this answer, now you’ve got it. What now?”

Wilbur hesitated. That was the question that had already bounced around in his heads hundreds of times by then. “I’m… kind of torn right now, to be honest with you.”

He fiddled with his hands in his lap, his head hanging. “I understand why he–I, almost destroyed these. We already wreaked havoc on the Nether. I’d hate to disturb another home. But, on the other hand…”

Eyes squeezed shut, he breathed deep. “The things I read about, Niki. Libraries, treasure ships, some sort of… powerful crystal. I don’t know.”

Niki’s eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. She was listening intently.

“I have never heard of the enchantments and potions that he logged about. I mean, ‘Water Protection’? There was Water Protection enchantments, a potion called ‘Bone Hollower.’ Another one: ‘Bird’s Hope.’ What the hell is that?”

“Your logs called it the End?” Niki asked.

Wilbur nodded. 

“Endermen. Water injures them. Maybe they created the Water Protection enchantment.”

Wilbur thought for a moment. It made more sense than he liked to admit. “Niki, there was one called, ‘Air Blessing.’”

At that, Niki simply scowled, her lip curling. “What’s that mean?”

“I think… I think it’s applied to a helmet. It’s made so you can breathe in any air or liquid or whatever you need to.”

Niki caught on. Uncertainty flashed in her eyes.

“I could find out what happened,” he said. “And you could explore the world. Like you wanted to.”

“Wilbur, that’s insane.”

“No, listen–”

“Do you want this for me, or for you?”

The question was a stab to Wilbur’s heart.

The sharpness in Niki’s expression softened. Her eyes moved down to the water below her, which lapped lightly against her back and sides. “Your need for closure, I understand it.”

She took a deep breath. Her claws tapped the dock lightly. “Before you met me, when I was still out in the Oak Sea, I had a home. I had friends. But land folk came by, in their… stupid big ships, and…” Her voice turned tight. She reeled herself back before she went too far. “They brought me inland, and I never knew what happened to my friends. I miss them, and it hurts so much, but they wouldn’t want me to put myself in danger for them.”

Niki met Wilbur’s eyes, and they were sparkling. They were solemn, they were dark, they were tired. And yet, she was still grinning. “We were going to explore the world together. We never got the chance. I always wanted to explore for them. To experience the beauty of our world for them. And maybe someday, I will. But not this way.”

Wilbur broke eye contact. The guilt had turned from a stab to a burn.

“I don’t want that for you, either, Wilbur,” she continued. “You brought all of us together, and look at us now. I want you to be happy with that.”

“I am,” Wilbur breathed.

Niki’s saddened expression pinched into a scowl. “Then what is this?”

Silence. Wilbur’s hands ran up the soft fabric of his yellow sweater.

Niki sighed, dipping a few inches deeper into the water. “I can’t stop you. I’ll try as hard as I could, but I probably can’t. But I want you to think about the people here. How much they appreciate you for what you’ve done. What happened to you then doesn’t matter anymore.”

She could only stare as Wilbur stared off, silent.

Niki frowned. “I’ll leave you be. Just… please think about what’s best for you.”

Wilbur couldn’t argue before she dipped below the surface, her large fin flicking over the water once before she dived deeper.

The breeze was chilled. The Pub was glowing within it’s dead tree nearby. He was pretty sure he saw Ranboo picking flowers somewhere.

Sometimes, it was hard to remember what he had. Niki was a good reminder.

But he couldn’t ignore his revelation, either; it brought a longing he couldn’t ignore.

He’d have to think hard for the next few nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :] I'm writing this while in the process of speedrunning adding the chapters I've already written for tumblr so I haven't seen feedback if there is any but if you did write some or anything thank you :)


	3. No Questions Asked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I continue my Ao3 speedrunning dudududu
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, Descriptions of fictional animal deaths (not sure if that's something legitimate to put here but I'm adding it just in case), Mention of decaying creature flesh

“Even if you’re cold, I’d still be careful around Wilbur’s place. He gets all pissy about hot stuff being around it. That’s why I’m not allowed on his property.” Tommy’s snicker was short. “No, actually, I tried to break into his library a few times. After breaking into his house.”

The mansion was dark at night. The windows were pitch black. The amount of creaks and whines that came from the wood made Tommy uneasy.

Jack stood beside him, dressed in layers with a blanket over his shoulder and a hood over his head. “I regret this,” he muttered with a tremble to his tone.

Tommy snorted, stifling a harsh laugh. “I’m gonna find a way in. You stay here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, trust me.”

Tommy left him on the front lawn while he stepped up on to the porch. He lowered to a crouch, peering beneath the boards covering the door, only to be met with a flat, newer looking face of wood.

Tommy scowled. “Fuckin’ Wilbur.”

He stood back up, examining the boarded up windows and the ivy beneath them. If he knew Wilbur would’ve been aware he’d visited, he probably wouldn’t have cared about keeping the wood up, but this, he was feeling particularly secretive about.

He stepped back out from the porch, and took a look at the mansion.

There was a hole in the roof. His crooked smirk flashed on his face.

He moved to the wall. Where he expected the ivy to break free, he was just light enough to use it as a ladder. He scrambled on to the roof, a shingle ripping free under his hand. His wings fluttered, but he’d dragged himself up before they needed to be used.

He stood a few feet away from the hole. With a readying step, he bounded forward, dropping inside feet first and his wings snapping open.

He glided slow down the tall room. The hole was the only light in the room, spotting him as he descended to the floor.

The wood creaked when he landed in a crouch. A small shiver racked through him; he never did exactly like Wilbur’s mansion. 

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rose to stand straight, as he warily paced along the room. The only sound in the room was the creak of the wood beneath his feet.

He didn’t waste time on finding his way to the library downstairs, which was close to pitch black if not for the three torches dotted here and there. Here was the quietest of the whole mansion, no wind to rock the walls or trees to scrape the wood. Only him, the darkness, and the scrape of talons.

Creeping along, he began searching the miles worth of books surrounding him. He knew that Wilbur had spent time–a lot of it, holy shit–organizing what had to be upwards of a thousand books into certain sections. All he had to do was find one book matching what he needed.

That section he needed sat way in the back. History of magic, in specific. Tommy reeled a little at the notion; there had to be hundreds of sections in the library if they got this specific. How long had Wilbur been there before they all moved in?

He collected a dozen or so books before he gathered them to the nearest table.

It took a while. Longer than he was comfortable with, but one of them had… partially what he was looking for. Details of the Nether, in specific. 

Of course, there was no case for hybrids. There was no way of knowing how many Hybrids there could’ve been before Jack, if there was any at all. 

But what he read came a little too close for comfort to what Jack had been experiencing.

Paragraphs on top of paragraphs of experiments made on things from the Nether coming to the Overworld all stated that none of them lasted. Not even a single plant.

Hoglins lasted up to three months or so before collapsing and dying after arrival. Withers put up a fight, against their captors and the land around them, before whatever magic keeping their bones upright faded and they crumbled. Flesh from a Ghast withered and crumpled up only days after being brought into the Overworld. 

Then there were Blazes, exactly what he was looking for.

Blazes dissolved. Their scales fell off, their fires diminished. They grew cold and stiff, and wheezed when they breathed. They lost their golden color and the shine that came with it.

This lasted months. The book detailed they had a lifespan as long as Hoglins.

Tommy tossed the book on the floor and slumped back in his seat. “Well, shit.”

•••

Sitting in the middle of an oak tree, was a little house. Tubbo’s treehouse.

At the bottom of it’s ladder, Phil approached a bell, with a sign over it reading, “Ring this!”

Curious, Phil took the bell and rang it, it’s sound reverberating along the forest’s edge.  
It took a moment, but a window above him opened, and Tubbo’s head popped out. His grin was wide, and the antennae in his curls sprung up to attention. “Hi, Phil!”

“Got your stuff,” Phil called, holding up a blue sack. “Six diamonds, one emerald, and a gold apple.”

Tubbo’s smile grew. “Wait, wait, wait, I wanna try something.” He held out his hand.

The sack in Phil’s hands shook, just a little. Phil stiffened, pulling his hand away as he watched the sack float for just a second, then drop to the ground. 

“Ah, it’s too heavy,” Tubbo breathed. “That’s okay. I’ll come get it.”

Phil scowled, watching him back out of the window. “Hold on,” he called. “How ‘bout I come see you?”

Tubbo paused, popping back out to peer down again. “Sure, if you want to. Your wings might be a bit cramped, though.”

“I’ll manage,” Phil grumbled, picked up the sack, and began the ascent up the ladder. 

There were flower boxes at each window, the occasional bee coming to stop by. Phil eyed them for a moment, before ducking into the front door.  
The place was small, but not for Tubbo. Phil was the oddity, here, already kind of tall, and his wings not helping. He reached behind them and shoved them downwards so they fit through the doorway. 

“Sorry,” Tubbo said. “I never expected anybody to come up here. I always expected to come to them.”

“It’s fine,” Phil mumbled, eyeing the way too low ceiling above him.

Tubbo opened his chest, and backed up, extending his hands in it’s direction.

Phil arched a brow. “What’re you doing?”

“I still haven’t been able to touch small stuff,” Tubbo explained. Out from the chest came a collection of gold pieces. “Every time I try, it’s like putting two magnets together on the wrong sides. It just goes, whoosh.” He made a throwing gesture with his free hand.

“That’s been getting stronger, then?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’d say stronger. I just haven’t been able to control it very well.”

“Where did this come from, anyway? How did you figure out you could do this?”

Tubbo directed the hovering gold pieces into a little pouch, and tied the gold string shut without even touching it. “The other night, I was trying to water the flowers. While I was gathering water from the lagoon, I dropped the can, and tried to pick it up. But it just kept… running away.”

The pouch hovered through the air, right into Phil’s hands, who flinched away from this odd magic he’d yet to understand.

“I’m sure it’s something to do with my hybrid, whatever I am,” Tubbo went on. “But I’ve never had anything like this happen before.”

Phil nodded, tucking the sack away into his satchel.

“Is there a reason you asked?” Tubbo added, turning to face him. 

Phil eyed the armor on his shoulders and arms, which were partially hidden by his baggy green button-up. His antennae were twitching, too, waiting for his response. “Something feels odd, that’s all.”

“Odd? What’s odd? Is something wrong?”

Phil scowled, folding his arms and picking at his chin. “I don’t think ‘wrong.’ Just odd. Wilbur’s been acting strange, and now you’re doing this.”

Tubbo’s head tilted sideways, and his eyes wandered as he pondered. “Maybe it’s because we’re all together, now.”

At that, Phil blinked. “What do you mean?”

“We’re all Hybrids, right? We’ve all got some sort of magic. Maybe we all clashed together, and everything’s just going…” He pushed his hands together, and made a sound that sounded like cracking, or exploding. 

The notion didn’t seem too far off. Phil had dealt with similar situations in magic before. “That’s possible. But it’s you, me, and Wilbur feeling it, no one else. Maybe Ranboo, but he hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”

“I could talk to Ranboo,” Tubbo replied. “He usually tells me stuff.”

“I don’t want to make him panic.”

“He won’t! And I’ll be there for him if he does.”

For a moment, they stood in silence. Tubbo’s antennae twitched on his head. Phil sighed through his nose, his hand on his chin finally lowering. “Let’s not make a big deal out of this. I need to go see Wilbur again. If Ranboo says anything significant, let me know, okay?”

“Gotcha, boss.” He pointed Phil’s way. “And thanks for the stuff.”

“Thank you for paying me.”

••• 

During the day, Tommy knew that Wilbur would be in the mansion. There was no where else for him to go.

So he had to be quick. It wasn’t long before sunrise.

He moved along the bookcases, searching for more details, more information, anything that could’ve lifted his spirits. He didn’t like the implications of what he’d already read, so of course he did the only thing he could; uselessly hoped for something different to happen.

It took time, but he came across another section that piqued his interest. History on magic. He started randomly plucking out books that had any chance of helping him, gathering them under his arm and into the satchel at his hip.

Until one of the books locked.

Tommy scowled. “What the fuck?” He tugged again. Then harder, and harder.

He put down the other books, and gripped it with two hands, putting all his weight into it. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much, but he heard creaks in there somewhere. The machinery somewhere inside would surely catch Wilbur’s attention, wherever he was, but Tommy was too curious and worked up to back out, now.

He yanked harder, gritting his teeth.

The book suddenly snapped, dropping on it’s spine. 

The machinery whirred loudly, creaking and whining metal coming from somewhere behind the shelf.  
The shelf in front of him inched forward jaggedly. Cobwebs tore apart in between the gap made by the door-shelf. The opening was tiny, but he was, too.

“What the fuck,” he said again, wandering to the opening. Did Wilbur even know this was here?

Tommy hesitated. If Wilbur did know this was here, he’d probably be pissed that he went in.   
Well, fuck that, Tommy knew he’d be pissed either way. And this was for his friend. If there was anything significant in there at all, he needed it, and quick. He grabbed a torch off the wall.

He could barely squeeze his way through the gap, wings pressing up against his back, the left one particularly achy with the movement. He swore as he pushed through, stumbling over his feet when he broke into a brick stairwell.

That was where he paused. The stairwell went deep, even deeper than where he knew the Glass Room was.   
He took a deep breath. It had to be worth it. A secret room was always important.

Tommy kept his guard up as he crept down the stairs. The silence was almost overwhelming.

There was a doorway at the bottom, but it’s wooden door was left abandoned at the side, the only thing blocking the room being piles of stone brick and dust. 

Tommy pressed his hands to the stone, shoving away the pieces he could, before scaling up the side and squeezing his way through against the ceiling and the bricks. 

He fell the rest of the way, rolling until he hit landed on his side with a grunt, his torch tumbling from his hand and rolling a foot away.. “Ow, shit,” he muttered, though the room made his whisper seem like a shout. He reached over and picked up the torch, then looked up.

Tommy had to pause to take in what he was seeing. Everything down there, the books, the tables on either side, the armor stand, all of them loomed over him, even as he stood up. 

He struggled to decide what to look at first. He first approached the books, and the bowl beside them, which was filled with scraps of paper. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered again. He poked at the piles of singed scraps, looking over what illustrations and words still remained. One caught his eye; one with Wilbur’s name, written in beautiful curling cursive. Whatever it was signed on, Tommy couldn’t be sure, as everything else burned off.

He took one of the newer looking scrolls, and unrolled it.

The frame of eyes looked back at him, the list of potions and enchantments faded at the side.  
“What the fuck.”  
Bird’s Hope, Bone Hollower, Water Protection, Air Blessing, Iron Will…

There were dozens. Tommy scrambled for more scrolls and pieces of paper. There were some details, all listed in that same fancy font. He could read more from some than others due to the state of the papers. 

Water Protection, reflects water. Air Blessing, an air filter for helmets. 

It was Bird’s Hope and Iron Will that caught his attention. 

“Tommy?”

Tommy squealed, spinning around to face the entrance, to see Wilbur standing there, hazy and see-through.  
Tommy snorted, quickly putting down the papers he held with shaky hands. “H-Hey, Wilbur! How’s it going? Uh, ha, did, did you know about this? This is pretty–”

“Tommy, how did you find this place?” Wilbur said it with a bite to his tone Tommy didn’t remember hearing in quite a while.

He cleared his throat, anxiously scratching the feathers on the back of his neck with his free hand. “I dunno, I was just, I was in the mood for a bit of a read, and– holy shit, I don’t know how we never knew this was here, I just–”

“Tommy.”

He fell silent.

Wilbur stepped forward, Tommy’s feet dragging him away automatically. He watched as Wilbur poked at the papers, and rolled up the scroll Tommy had been reading before he was caught. “Ask before you break into my goddamn house.”

“There was no ‘breaking in.’ I hope you know there’s a big hole in the roof. I glided right down. See? I told you my gliding was helpful.”

“Why did you need in the house in the first place?”

“I told you, I was in the mood for a bit of a read.”

“Get out.”

Tommy hesitated.   
Wilbur reached over, snatching the torch from his hand. “Get out! I don’t want you in here!”

Still, Tommy hesitated. The feathers on his wings spiked.

“Get out!”

The last shout was what got Tommy moving, scrambling over the rubble, blind this time without his torch.  
He fell on the other side, too. “Shit–Fix your door!”

•••

Just before the sun rose, Tubbo found Ranboo sitting near his mineshaft entrance. He only got a quick look of the dark figures of the Endermen around him before he covered his eyes on his approach. “Hi, Ranboo!”

He heard the warble sound of the Endermen nearby, followed by the vwoop of them teleporting away. He looked up just enough to see the purple sparks they left behind. 

Ranboo spun around to face Tubbo, bright green eyes widening at the sight.

“Since when did so many Endermen hang around here?” Tubbo called, lowering his hand.

Ranboo’s response was a low warble, which quickly transitioned into him clearing his throat. “Sorry. Uh, I don’t know. I usually go out towards the edge of the forest to talk to them.”

“I didn’t know you could speak their language.”

“Yeah, I can. I always have been able to.”

“You should teach me how.”

Ranboo’s head dipped, and his tail flicked behind him. “I can’t.”

Tubbo scowled, sitting on the nearby stones beside the mineshaft entrance. “Why not?”

“It’s literally impossible. I have two sets of vocal cords, you are literally unable to make the same sounds I can.”

Quickly, Tubbo’s disappointment was replaced with intrigue. “No way.”

“Yeah, I, uh, someone figured that out back in Alizar. If you put your finger on the back of my neck–or, uh, really any Enderman’s neck, you can feel the other vocal cords.”

“Can I see?”

Though Ranboo was hesitant, he answered by lowering down, though he was as tall as Tubbo was even in his squat. With Tubbo’s fingers on the back of his neck, Ranboo spoke a few words out loud, though the sound was drowned out by Tubbo’s awed laughs. “That’s insane!” he exclaimed, his hand still rested on the back of his neck. There was a distinct vibration he could feel clearly.

Ranboo’s responding laugh came out like a strange trill, until he cleared his throat and the vibrations stopped. “I, I didn’t even know about that until, uh, the city.”

“That’s amazing, that’s so cool.” He watched Ranboo stand up straight again before adding, “And the Endermen. I didn’t know you could have full on meetings with Endermen. Since when were they coming around here? That’s the first time I’ve seen them near the lagoon.”

For a moment, Ranboo paused, looking through the trees around them. “I don’t know, honestly. They came by yesterday. There were two then, three today.”

“What’d they tell you?”

“Uh, they said they’ve felt a lot of energy around here lately. They said they felt welcome.”

“Welcome?” Tubbo folded his arms over his chest. “That’s weird.”

“Why? Why’s that weird?”

Narrowing his eyes, Tubbo glanced towards the lagoon. “Walk with me, big man.”

After a pause, Ranboo began to follow. “Okay.”

That afternoon was most likely the best day they’d had in a while. There was a breeze to feign off the warmth that came with a clear, cloudless day. The trees swayed and breathed softly around them, while birds twittered somewhere off in the woods. 

“Phil came to you about things feeling weird, didn’t he?” Tubbo asked. 

He quickly spotted Ranboo stiffen, his gaze wandering off elsewhere. “Yep.”

“He was mentioning how Wilbur was acting strange, too. And I showed you my powers the other day. Those got all worked up all of a sudden.”

“Right, right.”

“And now you’re having meetings with Endermen Is there… anything, that you’re feeling at all? I was just wondering if I was the weird one.”

It took a moment. A long, pondering moment. But Tubbo was patient, especially with Ranboo.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a bad feeling,” he said, finally, his fingers tangling together. “I feel more… comfortable. Not so cramped. In the city, it was so… claustrophobic. When I met Wilbur, he kept telling me that there was somewhere safer out there. For a while, I, I didn’t believe him.”

They’d stopped in the middle of his sentence, standing idly by the calm lagoon as the water gently lapped against the grass and mud. 

“He wanted to smuggle me out. I was too terrified to try. But at one point, he’d convinced me to leave with him. And I don’t regret it at all. I’ve never felt this… this…”

A small, soft smile spread on Tubbo’s face. 

Ranboo breathed along with the breeze. “That’s all the changes I’ve felt.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, big man.” Tubbo playfully punched his arm.

Ranboo snickered, subtly rubbing the spot he’d hit. “Thank you, Tubbo.”

•••

“Did you find anything?”

Jack’s question went unheard as Tommy pulled his goggles down while he stepped off Wilbur’s porch, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his feathers spiked.

“Tommy?” Jack called.

Tommy breathed, spinning around and propping his hands on his hips. “Wilbur’s acting all… shouty, and weird. I’m just thinking about it right now.”

Jack scowled, eyeing him close. “That’s unlike him.”

“Why do you think I’m confused right now?”

A pause. Jack jogged to catch up, followed by a small tremble in his shoulders and his blanket pulled closer. “Did you… did you find anything? Anything significant?”

Tommy hadn’t come to a good conclusion before he exited the mansion. He hadn’t made a decision on what to say or do when he got back to Jack. What was he supposed to tell him, anyway? That he was going to deteriorate and fucking die in a few months? 

What about a new fucking dimension? What the fuck was all that about? Was it even real?

“I’m not sure what I found,” Tommy mumbled. 

Jack hesitated. “You… You want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know. I-I mean, yeah. But, right now…”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Fuckin’ hell. What happened?”

“Wilbur was just acting strange, that’s all. This isn’t the first time he’s kicked me out, but…”

“Did you find anything in there?”

The words seemed to lock in Tommy’s throat. He was still in shock himself. 

How would he respond to that?

“Nothing… huge. I, I’ll talk about it tomorrow. We should get out of here, before he gets angry at us.”

“Well, what are we going to do?” Jack asked. “Will… Will I be okay?”

A pang of guilt flashed in Tommy’s chest, but he drowned it out. “Fuck sake, man, of course you’ll be fine.”

Jack didn’t reply. 

“I’ll just ask for advice, or something,” Tommy continued. 

“From Phil?”

“What the fuck, no!” He sighed. “At least, not now. We’ll see. We’ll… we’ll be fine.”


	4. Ranboo's Rumbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never know what to put in the chapter summaries so I'll just say hello lmao  
> If you're here from tumblr you get a special hello 
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, Multiple mentions of death

It was noon when Tubbo was interrupted by a knock on his door, the sound making him flinch. “I put a bell down there for a reason!”

He didn’t even get to approach the door before it flew open, Tommy scrambling inside and closing the door behind him. The first thing he did when he turned around was wack his wing into the flowerpot that sat on a table not even an inch away from the door. “Oh, shit–”

The pot stopped mid-air, and Tommy looked up to see Tubbo’s hand reached out. He flicked his hand upward, and the pot returned to it’s previous spot. “I’ve got a bell down there for a reason,” Tubbo said again, though the humor in his expression and tone was still there.

Tommy couldn’t copy his mood. He stepped deeper into the room, looking over all the flower boxes and chests stuffed into the tiny treehouse. “I didn’t think about the bell,” Tommy replied. “I got stuff to talk to you about.”

Tubbo arched a brow, his antennae leaning with it. “You’re sounding like you’re in a bit of a mood at the minute.”

“I am not.”

“Then what’ve you gotta talk to me about? I didn’t do anything, did I?”

“No! Of course you didn’t, I...” Tommy breathed, reeling himself back. “It’s about Jack.”

Tommy stepped a little closer, sitting down on the bed next to the window. Tubbo sat down next to him. “I heard there was something going on with him,” he said. 

Tommy shrugged, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. “Overworld’s not been doing him any favors.”

“Side effects?” Tubbo asked.

“You could say that.”

“Is he okay?”

Tommy hated the way he answered. “It’s hard to tell.”

Tubbo breathed sharply, adjusting his seat. He wrapped his arms around his front, his eyes wandering as he thought, and his antennae twitching. “Do you know what to do?”

Tommy paused. “That’s... why I came to you.” He turned in his seat so he was facing Tubbo directly. “I needed to know what you thought.”

“Why not ask Phil? He has a past with magic.”

“No, I... I can’t fucking tell Phil. He’ll make a whole ass deal about it, then he’ll get all, ‘oh, Tommy, you should’ve come to me right away, damn it Tommy, why can’t you do anything right, Tommy...’“

Tubbo’s gaze darted away. “O-Okay. Well, what did you want to ask me about?”

For a moment, Tommy hesitated, even with Tubbo. But he shook the anxiety off quickly. “I wanted to tell you what happened this morning. I, I went to Wilbur’s place, because he’s the one with all the books, and everything, so, I thought, maybe, he might have answers. Of course, I didn’t tell him I was coming, I kinda just... snuck in. But, but the stuff I found in his place, it was, it was weird, man.”

Tubbo leaned a little closer, his antennae gravitating towards Tommy as he continued.

“First, I found books on the Nether. They... They didn’t put my hopes up. They just kept saying that everything that comes to the Overworld from the Nether died. Including Blazes.

Then, I kept looking, and, and he had some sort of–I don’t even fucking know, it was some sort of bunker. It seemed like no one had gone inside in a while, but Wilbur can go through walls, so I can’t really know how many times he might’ve gone down there.”

“Was it... Was it, like, a murder room, or something?” Tubbo had a genuine bit of fear in his tone.

“No, no. It had an empty armorstand, and, and old weapons, bunch of books. But, like, what I read about was what was weird. Wilbur... Alive Wilbur–Alivebur–wrote about some place called the End. Like, the Nether, but not on fire.”

“Another dimension, then?” Tubbo asked.

Tommy snorted. “Yeah, apparently. It was written about everywhere, all of it with Wilbur’s name on them.”

A pause. Tubbo looked away. “Well, we don’t gotta worry. We can’t get there, we don’t know how.”

Tommy gritted his teeth, and he shrugged. “That’s not really true.”

Tubbo’s expression immediately darkened, and Tommy could see it clear as day. “There, uh, were instructions,” he explained, voice tight. “Ender Pearls, Blaze Powder–I mean, I don’t even know how to get Blaze Powder. I know very few brewers have used it. And Ender Pearls?”

“So, there’s nothing to worry about? We might know how to do it, but it’s too difficult, right?”

“W-Well, I’m not... I’m not worried about someone getting out. I think, I think I found something that could help us.”

“Help Jack?” Tubbo asked.

Tommy paused. “And... me. Maybe.”

“With what? What do you need help with? Since when did you need help?”

The sternness in Tubbo’s tone made him pause. His gaze, too, had a glare in it that Tommy read as deep concern. Tommy had only ever seen that once before.

“Calm down, man, I’m fine,” Tommy replied, his attempt to make the sentence feel stern falling short. “It’s nothing you could’ve ever helped me with. I just... It’s stupid.”

“No, tell me.”

“No, what’s important is how it can help Jack. There were... Here, I wrote them down.” Tommy reached into his satchel, and retrieved a notebook. “On top of there being, like, a king’s worth of treasure, holy shit, they’ve got enchantments and potions I’ve never heard of.”

He opened the notebook, a pen rolling out as soon as it was open. He caught it before it fell, then messily flipped through the pages until he came across what he was looking for. “There was one called Iron Will. A, a potion. It’s supposed to protect whoever drinks it from, like, different effects. Like different environments. I don’t know, like medicine.”

“And you think that could help Jack?”

Tommy pursed his lips, and nodded. “Y-Yeah.”

Tubbo’s worried eyes darted from him to the book. “Tommy, do... do you even know if this place is real? And, and the risks you’d have to take to get there. How could this affect you while the Overworld is affecting Jack?”

The question was one Tommy had already asked himself. He expected Phil to ask him that, too. But not Tubbo. 

It was a matter of if he was brave enough to face that or not. Face facts that he didn’t like. It was rare for Tubbo to make his high hopes come crashing down, but when he did, he was usually right to do so.

But what else were they meant to do?

Tommy put aside the book. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Tubbo’s hands fumbled in his lap, and his antennae twitched. “Maybe he needs to go back.”

“No, if he doesn’t want to go back, he won’t. But...”

His thoughts were getting too overwhelming. He was becoming flustered. “I don’t know.”

“It sounds too good to be true, surely,” Tubbo added, his tone soft. “Why would Wilbur hide that?”

“To keep us out,” Tommy grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe he wants to find it and keep that shit to himself.”

“Would Wilbur do that?”

“Probably. How many secrets would a ghost keep? And if Wilbur is hiding it, there needs to be some sort of truth to it, right?”

Tubbo didn’t reply.

Tommy sighed, his hand hovering over his eyes for a long moment as he pondered. “I need to talk to Jack.”

There was a long moment where they just sat in silence. Tommy leaned a little closer to Tubbo, like he was his anchor. He thought easier around him.

Tubbo hummed a little next to him. “I was just thinkin’ about when Phil met us.”

“What the hell reminded you of that?” Tommy snickered.

Tubbo laughed back. “You just sitting there pouting.”

“I don’t pout.”

“You didn’t speak one word to Phil for, what, a month? You told me you didn’t like him.”

“Okay, one, I was... uh, small. Second, I feel that’s a valid reason to not talk to anybody.”

“And look where we are now.”

Tommy scoffed, his frown returning. “Yeah.”

Again, silence.

Tommy sighed, slowly standing. “I need to go talk to Jack, see how he’s feeling.”

Tubbo watched him stand, though he hesitated at his feet. The feathers at his back were spiked; he was on edge, and Tubbo could feel it, too.

“I’ll let you know what’s happening, okay?” Tommy said, briefly turning to glance his way

Tubbo’s smile was forced. “Okay.”

Still, Tommy hesitated. But eventually, he dragged himself to the door, quickly barging though, disappearing on the other side.

Tubbo didn’t let himself worry too long. He got himself to stand up, but only for his gaze to drop back down and see the notebook on the edge of the bed.

“Aw, man,” he muttered. For a second, he forgot about his current state, and reached over to grab it.

It slid off the bed and on to the floor, a page flipping as it landed.

The image it landed on was of a frame, it’s eyes looking through the paper, up at him.

He wasn’t sure how, or why. He wasn’t sure of what was so threatening and familiar of a jagged drawing made with Tommy’s shaky hands, right next to a long paragraph with plenty of “fucks” written in it. He had no idea why it made his heart drop to his feet.

But he did know that it was familiar. And that’s what got him reeling.

•••

Wilbur waited in the Glass Room after dropping a stone down to Niki with a note on it, letting her know he needed to meet.

She arrived not long later, breaking the surface and peering down at him from the opening. “Is something wrong?”

“Tommy found the bunker this morning.”

Niki’s eyes narrowed, and Wilbur could see her tail flick anxiously through the glass. “What does that mean?”

“I—I don’t know.”

Niki stared silently. There was always something a little strange about being stared at by her, something that wasn’t like when Phil or Tommy stared. It felt more like when Ranboo stared at him, in the rare times he caught his eye; it was heavy. There were too many words to count behind her gaze. “Do you plan on doing anything significant with that room, Wilbur?” she asked softly.

He hesitated, feeling his fingers cling to the fabric of his trousers. “I don’t know.”

Niki’s hands folded on each other on the edge of the glass. “Maybe you should get another opinion. From someone like Phil.”

“I can’t tell Phil, Niki. He’d flip.”

“I don’t think he will. He’s dealt with things like this before, he’s the most mature out of all of us.”

A solemn snicker escaped him. “That’s not saying much.”

“I know. But he’s got the years. He’s got the experience. He’d know what to tell you. I can only do so much, Wilbur.”

Guilt flashed in Wilbur’s heart, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Niki. I didn’t mean to pour so much out on you.”

“I know.”

“Do you need me to stop?”

“No. I just want you to help yourself.”

Wilbur’s hands rested on his sleeves.

“Talk to Phil next,” she continued. “He’ll have better answers than me.”

•••

The Delivery Tree was a dead oak near the far side of the river, where Phil came every afternoon to pluck letters from and see who needed what.

There was only one that day, from Tubbo, which was expected. He’d been hoarding the tree as of late.

He took the paper from where it hung near the lowest branches, then flew up, and perched himself above the other trees as he went to read it.

But he didn’t get a chance before he was interrupted by yelling. “Phiiiiiil!”

He sighed. Immediately, Phil was feeling exhausted. He dropped from the tree, his scabbard catching him before he landed on sensitive knees too harshly.

Tubbo was sprinting up to the tree, something hovering from his hand above his head. Phil made it out as an open book when he got closer.

“Phil!” Tubbo huffed, and pushed his hand forward. “Look at this—“

The book smacked into Phil’s side when he rose his arms to block it. “Oh, shit, sorry!” Tubbo cried.

Sighing again, Phil knelt down to pick it up with one hand while his other rubbed at his eyes.

But he was very awake when he saw the frame drawn unevenly on the page.

Whatever he was feeling looking at it, it hurt, and he didn’t like it.

“Do you recognize it?” Tubbo asked, a bit of a shake and squeak to his voice. His antennae leaned away from Phil rather than toward him.

Phil struggled to find his words for a moment. He’d never seen or felt anything like this, and yet, it felt like deja vu. “I feel like I do, but I wouldn’t be able to tell you what it meant.”

“That’s exactly how I feel!” Tubbo exclaimed, stepping up to his side to look at it with him. “Tommy left it at my place on accident. He said he wrote stuff down that he read about at Wilbur’s place.”

“Wilbur’s place? Why was he at Wilbur’s?”

“Reading about stuff for Jack.”

“What about— Y’know what, fuck it, I don’t wanna know.” His free hand reached up to scratch at his chin, and he began pacing, his wings antsily twitching at his back. “These sort of things usually come from magic. What was Wilbur doing with it?”

“I, I don’t know,” Tubbo replied. “But Tommy was telling me something strange. He said something about another dimension. Like the Nether, but not on fire.”

“That’s impossible.”

“That’s what I said, but he kept going. He said there was, like, treasure and stuff. Rare treasure, or something. I got worried about him, I didn’t want him to get mixed up in something we didn’t know about.”

Phil didn’t reply for a moment.

“You’ve known Wilbur the longest,” Tubbo went on. “What could that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Phil replied sternly. “Do you know about anybody else who could’ve looked at it?”

“Next person I can think of would be Jack, but Tommy said he hasn’t talked to him yet.”

A pause. “Did... Did Tommy give a name, for this dimension?”

When Tubbo thought about it, his heart sank, even heavier than it had earlier. “The End.”

Phil didn’t even get a chance to react before Tubbo’s hand shot out, the book yanking out of Phil’s hand. “I-I need to go find Ranboo!”

“Tubbo, wait!”

“I’ll come back to you in a few minutes with what I find!”

•••

Tubbo lit a torch as he entered the ravine. It was cold and quiet, and he could hear the squeal of a bat somewhere. Ranboo had said before how creatures didn’t hang around him or his home, and from what Tubbo could find, he was right; the normal footfalls of creatures in the night were absent, here.

He crept along the edge of the ravine, his torch aloft. “Ranboo?”

He turned a corner. The sight ahead made him gasp, and he rose the book to shield his eyes. He’d only gotten a split second to see it, but an Enderman had blocked his way, and he could hear it’s quiet warbles from this far away.

“Ranboo?” he called again. “I’m not gonna move on this edge with my eyes closed, so, I hope you can hear me.”

Another warble echoed throughout the cavern. There was a vwoop behind him, followed by more trills and chirps. The first set from ahead disappeared.

“Hey,” Ranboo said, his big, clawed hand resting on Tubbo’s shoulder. “You can open your eyes, now.”

Hesitantly, Tubbo lowered the book from his eyes. The ravine’s edge was not only occupied by him and his friend.

“You good?” Ranboo asked.

Tubbo nodded. “I’ve never seen Endermen down here.”

“They’ve felt welcome,” Ranboo replied, and there was a lightness to his tone. Tubbo hated intruding on his happiness like this.

“I had something I needed to show you,” he said, fumbling with the book. “It’s important.”

Ranboo’s head tilted sideways, his tail flicking, ears leaning unevenly. “Okay.”

Tubbo hesitated when he found the page. After a moment of pondering, he turned the book around. “Do you recognize this?”

Ranboo’s reaction was immediate. A harsh, almost hiss like noise escaped his throat, and he staggered a step or two back. Tubbo quickly retracted, watching his friend with uncertain eyes. “Are you okay?”

Ranboo shook his head, his hand in his hair. That rumble-like noise Tubbo had heard in Endermen before came from deep in his throat. “What is that?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Tubbo asked, closing the book. “I thought you’d have an idea, being an Endermen, and all.”

“N-No, I don’t.” He was still making that rumbling noise. “I, I don’t know what that was. I don’t know why it tipped me off.”

Tubbo thought for a moment. “Was it the eyes? Do you get all rumbly seeing just drawings of eyes?”

“N-Not normally, no,” Ranboo replied, his hands folding anxiously in front of him. “I—They—I tested it out, I’ve had that tested, it doesn’t work like that.”

“So, it was the image, then? And you don’t even know what it is?”

“Nnno.”

Tubbo scowled. “I showed it to Phil, and he felt weird, too. But you’ve had the weirdest reaction so far.”

“You’re not experimenting on me again, are you?”

“No! No, this was Tommy’s, and it made me worried. I went to Phil about it, he seemed concerned. Then I thought about you, and I came to see what you’d think, being partial Enderman, and all.”

“Why’d you think of me?” Ranboo’s voice was weak, uncertain.

Tubbo arched a brow. “It seems like it’s a portal to another dimension, like the Nether, called the End. I correlates End with Enderman, thought of you, and...”

Ranboo’s rumbles we’re getting louder at that point. Tubbo couldn’t be sure what had set him off like this. “Uh, I’m sorry, if it made you uncomfortable.”

Ranboo hesitated. Big, bright green eyes darted around, and his tail was swaying rapidly back and forth. “I don’t know what to say about how I’m feeling right now.”

“Is it very Enderman-y?”

Ranboo blinked. “W-What?”

“Never mind. We should go see Phil about this, he sounded very worried.”

Ranboo’s gaze was kept downward as Tubbo stepped past him. That low rumble was still echoing throughout the ravine.

Tubbo turned to face him one more time. “You okay, big man?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo breathed. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

•••

“You okay, Jack?”

Tommy’s explanation felt like it took forever. Jack never looked at him once.

It was silent for a long, uncomfortable moment. Tommy tapped his knee with his hand anxiously as he stiffly tried to break the tension. “Y’know, heh, if we ever needed an excuse to get the portal open now...”

“I’m not going back, Tommy.”

Tommy’s frown quickly returned. “Jack, what else are we supposed to do, here?”

“If Wilbur had all that shit in his basement, there had to be some form of truth to it, right? Especially if he seemed to have gear readied up.”

“You want to see that through? You want to risk that?”

“And you didn’t?”

A pause.

Jack’s gaze darkened. “What did you see that almost convinced you to do it?”

Tommy didn’t reply.

There was a long moment where Jack patiently waited for his response.

Tommy growled, burying his face in his hands. “Some sort of enchantment. It was called Bird’s Hope. It bonds new wings to a person.”

Silence. Tommy picked up his head to look Jack’s way.

He was staring blankly. Then, after a long, silent moment, he snorted. “You want new wings?”

Their connected gaze suddenly felt too personal. Tommy broke it off, instead staring at his hands. “I made myself back out of it. It’s stupid.”

The amusement in Jack’s expression was quickly gone. “Well, I can’t just back out of it. If this is my only chance, if I only have a few months, I’m gonna try it. Whether or not you come with me is up to you.”

Jack stood from his bed—very, very slowly—and approached his chest at the end of his bed.

A million thoughts rang through Tommy’s head in that one moment. He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore.

But watching Jack prepare for a trip he’d surely never survive in this state was what turned his thoughts elsewhere.

“We can talk to Phil,” he said, as a last ditch effort. “He’s... He knows things. He might be able to help.”

“Phil might be smart, but he can’t change facts,” Jack muttered, gathering up clothes and tossing them on the bed. “I’m going to fucking die in a few months if I don’t do this.”

“You’re going to a whole other dimension to avoid another dimension so you can live in this one?”

“I will do whatever it takes, Tommy.”

“Then let’s think about this logically.”

“Since when did you think logically?”

“Since now. What if we kept you in the Nether for a bit while we worked it out? In hindsight, we should’ve done that before, but it was kind of a spur of the moment decision.”

“I don’t want to go back.” Jack’s voice had suddenly turned softer.

Tommy rose to his feet. “I don’t want you to, either, but it’s better than dying. We could work it out, we can—“

“And what if this was the only way?”

“Then I’ll go, and you’ll stay safe.”

Silence. Jack looked at his feet. “Why do you want to help me so bad?”

Tommy was taken aback by the comment. He scowled at Jack, shocked that it was even a question. “Because you’re my fucking friend. And I can’t just let you fucking die.”

“I—“

“Jack, all of this was my idea. The whole reason you’re here now is because of me. I don’t want you to be dead because of me, too.”

That was the softest Tommy had seen Jack that day. His eyes avoided his, and he couldn’t even scowl. He turned his back to him, and dug in his chest one more time. “Then you’ll come with me.”

Tommy would’ve argued if he hadn’t genuinely thought about it.

Jack turned back to him, his sword and scabbard now in his hands. “If we’re figuring this out, I want to figure it out with you.”

Tommy had a fear of being alone. He had a need for people to like him. It was a wonder to him that Jack was so open to letting him join.

He stood still for a long time, simply watching Jack gather his things.

Bird’s Hope called from somewhere out there.

There was something there for both of them.

“Okay.”

Jack paused.

“I’ll come with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! we're getting deeper into the story and I'm very excited LMAO I've been speedrunning ao3 so I haven't seen much feedback yet but I'm gonna keep updating here since it seems people like using this site more than tumblr, but tumblr is my preferred writing site so here I am


	5. Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! I guess my first time really using ao3 is going well LOL
> 
> Warnings: Swearing

“Is that Wilbur?”

Ranboo was brought to attention by Tubbo’s quip, and he looked up to see Phil underneath the shade of a large tree, with Wilbur standing in front of him.

The boys picked up speed. Ranboo still hadn’t stopped rumbling.

Phil’s gaze darted up when they approached, and Wilbur spun around, green eyes widening at the sight.

“Hi, Wilbur,” Tubbo said, uncertainty in his tone. His gaze was on Phil when he spoke.

Phil looked just as concerned. He was leaning on his scabbard like a cane, both hands folded on the pommel of the sword. “Fancy meeting you two here. Wilbur and I were just having a very intriguing conversation.”

Wilbur scowled, slowly turning back to Phil. “Did you... Do they know?”

Phil didn’t reply. He slowly returned his scabbard to his belt.

Wilbur turned back to the other two, his attention on Tubbo. “Do you know?”

Tubbo didn’t respond right away.

Wilbur stepped forward, as far as he could get without stepping into sunlight. “Tubbo, how do you know?”

Ranboo backed away from the sudden engagement, still rumbling as he took cover behind Tubbo.

Wilbur’s eyes widened before Tubbo could even answer. “Tommy told you, didn’t he?”

“Wilbur, I think you need to start being a little more honest with us,” Phil called, taking his attention away from the boys. “This was a community that you yourself stated was going to be built on trust and teamwork.”

“I know!” Wilbur exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “I just—I wasn’t ready. Tommy invaded my space.”

“That wasn’t right of him, but it just makes me feel as if you’re hiding something we should know about.”

Wilbur squeezed his eyes shut, hugging his front and stroking the fabric of his sweater. “I haven’t been hiding it long. I talked to Niki about it.”

“Why did you feel a need to hide it, Wilbur? All this information hiding in your basement? Even I hadn’t heard of this, and you know how much I’ve engaged in magic before.”

“I know, I...”

“Then why didn’t you even say anything to me right away?”

“Because it felt too...!” He breathed sharply. “Personal.”

Tubbo glanced at Ranboo, only to see he was staring at the ground.

“That’s how you died, wasn’t it?” Phil suddenly asked, slow and wary.

Wilbur squeezed his eyes shut.

“That’s why you didn’t tell anyone?” Phil pried, stepping closer, arms crossed. “What, were you embarrassed? Or nervous?”

“Why the hell would I be embarrassed?” Wilbur snapped back, his tone rising again. “I didn’t want you guys to know because the End is obviously lost history. That means it’s been missing for at least two centuries. That also means I’ve probably been dead for longer than that. And you know what happens when you’re dead for that long.”

“What happens?” Tubbo asked.

Wilbur’s brow pinched together, as he turned to glance at him. “Don’t you know what happens to ghosts? They turn into Phantoms.”

Ranboo’s rumbling got louder behind Tubbo.

“It’s a long process, but it happens,” Wilbur continued, turning back to Phil. “And I didn’t want you guys to worry that I’d go out of control.”

Phil sighed, his wings twitching against his back. “What did you plan to achieve with that, Wilbur? What changes would’ve been made if you decided to go after this place? What changes when you find out how you died, there?”

Wilbur didn’t respond right away.

“Do you have more reason to believe you might change soon?”

“No,” he replied. His voice was tightened. 

There was a moment that passed where Phil let slip a look of concern. He breathed deep, looking down at his boots for a second, before speaking again. “It spooked you, then.”

“I guess, yeah,” Wilbur breathed. 

“You can talk to me about this, Wilbur.”

“You could talk to us, too,” Tubbo pitched in, taking a careful step forward. 

“I did,” Wilbur snapped back at Tubbo, then turned to Phil again. “I talked to Niki. She told me to do what I felt was right. I was doing what I felt was right, but I still feel as if something is wrong.”

“What do you feel is wrong?” Phil asked, his tone lightening. 

Wilbur shrugged. He was starting to pace as he thought, partially speaking to himself. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Wilbur, sometimes, if you’re feeling that way, it doesn’t always mean whatever is missing is something you need. Sometimes that hollowness just comes from change.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Tubbo could feel Ranboo hovering close over his shoulder, using him as his rock. 

“I need to think,” Wilbur said suddenly. No one could reply to him before he vanished into the air, a gap between them where he once stood.

•••

Niki wasn’t one to dwell. 

She didn’t look back often. She tried her best to be in the moment, where she knew she’d be at her happiest.

But Wilbur’s hope had seemed to put thoughts in her head that normally only came to her in the form of memories.

The lagoon seemed much smaller that day. She careened through the clear, crystal blue water, which darkened at the face of the cavern beneath the shore.

The only light came from behind her, though her eyes were fit for darkness like this. Her things were halfheartedly gathered in corners, left there until she was settled.

She made a careful glance behind her. The sun was glimmering through the ripples, decorating the sandy floor in spots of gold.  
The water was colder within the cave.

Stiffening, she approached one of the corners, her tail trailing loosely behind her. Claws took the chests and moved them aside until she reached the bottom one. Bubbles leaked out as she opened the lid, and her eyes immediately dropped to the dark box at the bottom.

She was hesitant. She’d tried, tried hard, not to look back. But sometimes, the lure was too strong.

She opened the box where it sat within the chest, and sitting in it’s center was a knife. The hilt was wrapped in pale green fabric, while the blade was made of shining blue diamond, it’s shape curved harshly with marks of wear in the edge and point.

Niki’s claws caught in the creases of the chest’s wood with her tightening grip. She reached down and took the knife’s hilt’s with her claws, as if it’d burn her if she held it too close. 

Engraved in gold along the side of the blue blade was 3 words: “To the world.”

It was the only thing she thought of almost every day that came from back then.

But it had made her think of Wilbur, too. That was the only reason she was willing to revisit it.

•••

5 MONTHS EARLIER.   
The waves were rolling mountains, dragged by the harsh winds brought on by the raging storm above the sea.

“Why can’t you swim with me?” Niki called over the raging storm. “You could guide me easier.”

Wilbur was gripping the sides of the boat as the sea’s waves rocked him to and fro. The shore was hazy off in the distance, past the fog and pouring rain. “I can still drown. I still need to breathe.”

“You still breathe, but you don’t need to blink?”

“I’m not sure how you want me to answer that.”

Niki snorted, her gaze wandering back in the direction of land. “Okay. We should hurry, before the storm passes.”

Wilbur nodded. “Follow me.”

“I’ll make sure your boat doesn’t tip.”

Wilbur watched as Niki dipped below the waves, and he began to move before he was rowing. Niki’s hands were pressed against the side, and Wilbur started helping by rowing as best he could through the angry sea.

It took much of his energy in way too much time. But Niki seemed to take the brunt of it; when they’d reached the calmer river, Niki stopped pushing, breaking the surface and slumping over the side to rest.

Wilbur’s smile was hesitant. “You okay?”

To his surprise, she giggled a little. She picked up her head, bright pink hair tangled where it stuck against her forehead. “Yeah.” She had to shout over the wind.

“Can we walk?” Wilbur replied. “It’ll be quicker.”

“Yeah.”

The boat was left abandoned on the shore. The forest was just as angry as the sea, leaves and twigs snagging at their clothes as they walked.

Niki kept a hold of the tail of Wilbur’s cloak, letting him lead her through the trees on her bare feet. Her large sack over her shoulder clanged against her back.

“Almost there,” Wilbur called. There was hope in his voice, and it was all Niki was riding off of, now.

Wilbur didn’t need to say anything for her to know they’d made it.

The lagoon was the calmest area in the storm, and the foretold mansion loomed on it’s edge, dark and foreboding. But the shimmering water in the rain was what kept her attention.

“Here we...” Wilbur trailed as Niki stepped closer, silently awed at the sight in front of her. The lagoon was deep, it was wide, it led into another river, and it had plants and flowers everywhere.

Small, cozy. Just what she’d been hoping for.

Her smile grew. “Wilbur, it’s wonderful,” she called. Then, she bounced excitedly on her feet, and slung her sack off her shoulder. “Here, watch this.”

With two swings, she tossed the heavy sack across the shore, and it landed in the center of the lagoon, where it promptly sank beneath the surface and disappeared.

Niki whooped with her hands in the air, and Wilbur’s laughs followed as he approached her side. “I guess it’s official, then,” he said, looking her way. “Welcome to the club. You’ll be able to meet Phil tomorrow, he’s been busy collecting resources.”

“Thank you, Wilbur,” Niki said, and it was the first time that night where her tone was soft.

Wilbur’s grin grew. “You’re welcome. I hope you like it here.”

Despite her excitement, the emotions had been squeezing her heart all night, and Niki could feel them start to flow over. She breathed in shakily, feeling the cool wetness of the storm beneath her skin.

“To the world, my friend,” she muttered, and it was entirely to herself, a small prayer to a friend who may or may not have been listening.

“To... the world.”

Wilbur echoed her, and she stiffened.

But then, she found she didn’t mind when he said her.

Her smile returning, she sprinted forward, and dived into the lagoon.

•••

Not many knew her story. Wilbur was one of few.

Niki cared for him, and she knew he cared for her. Most importantly, they listened to each other.

She grabbed a satchel and tucked her knife within it.

•••

The boys sat across from Phil where he sat at the base of the tree, scratching his chin as he thought.

He’d been like that for a small while after they’d explained how Ranboo reacted to the frame, essentially their one and only connection as to what the hell was going on. Ranboo was hovering close over Tubbo’s shoulder, his rumbles having died down but not his anxiety.

“Okay.” Phil’s hand finally dropped. “So, we know that what the three of us are experiencing right now is connected. Possibly Will, too.”

“Phil, you’ve been around a while,” Tubbo pitched in, sitting up straighter, antennae leaning towards him. “Surely, you’d remember this thing being mentioned at some point, right?”

Phil shook his head. “Tubbo, I’ve been around so long that unimportant things have slipped my mind. I could’ve heard it mentioned, possibly, but if I wasn’t directly involved, it wouldn’t have stuck.”

“Did you know Wilbur when he was alive?” Ranboo asked, softly, carefully.

“No. I would’ve remembered him, absolutely.”

Silence.

Ranboo warbled a little, his tail flicking behind him. “Is there anything significant that you remember?” he asked, right before going back to making his small noises.

Phil hesitated, leaning back against the tree, wings splayed lazily at either side of him.

Tubbo glanced at Ranboo, then back at Phil. “I always felt homesick. I don’t know about you guys, but no matter where I was, I always felt like I had somewhere to be. I told Tommy this once.”

“What’d he say?” Ranboo asked.

“He didn’t have that feeling, even though he’s a hybrid, too.”

“I don’t think Tommy is connected,” Phil announced. “It seems the three of us are the only ones who have it in common.”

Tubbo suddenly straightened to attention, seemingly at a new thought. “What if that’s why I’ve been getting powers all of a sudden? ‘Cause all of us are together?”

“And why more Endermen have been coming around,” Ranboo added, Tubbo turning and nodding his way.

“And why Wilbur was drawn to his bunker,” Phil said last.

Silence. The grass shifted in the wind around them.

“It’s got to be true, then, right?” Tubbo said, breaking the tension. “We can’t be feeling these things for a place that doesn’t exist.” He shifted around to look at Ranboo, his hands rested on his knees where his legs were crossed. “Ranboo! You have to be feeling something different, right? You’re the Enderman.”

Ranboo paused, then fumbled a dozen words before he could make out a sentence. “Around you guys, maybe.”

“Like what?” Phil asked.

Ranboo shrugged. His tail subconsciously wrapped around his arm. “I don’t know. But it’s not... a bad feeling.”

Tubbo’s gaze darted. “Like...?”

“Familiarity.”

Tubbo quickly shared a glance with Phil, a tiny smile flashing on his face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo replied, and his tone had lightened. “Yeah, that’s what it is. Familiarity.”

“I’m unsure how I feel about this,” Phil mumbled, and once again, he was scratching his chin. “I’ve dealt with magic many times before, but never anything like this.”

“This doesn’t seem like just magic,” Ranboo argued. “I think we’ve all got something missing, and we all fill that hole for each other, just a little bit.”

“You’ve been with Wilbur for a while, right?” Tubbo said before Phil could reply. “Not before he died, but still.”

“Yes.”

“You two were drawn to each other. Maybe Wilbur saw familiarity in you, too,” Tubbo exclaimed. Despite the strange subject, there was excitement and his tone and expressions.

Phil’s expression pinched to a scowl. “That’s what Will wants. He wants to feel comforted by his past.”

Ranboo shifted. “He wants to be alive again.”

That was the moment where Phil had been seconds away from meeting his eyes. He had to force his gaze down, struggling with the idea himself.

Tubbo frowned. “By the way Tommy described it, I’m sure Wilbur would have reason to believe that the End could bring him back to life.”

“Death is final, no one comes back,” Phil mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. “Not physically, anyway. That person’s memories are gone and that hole in the air is filled with someone else’s.”

Tubbo nodded. “So, that’s one thing Wilbur is wrong about.”

“But he could still be planning on trying,” Ranboo added.

Phil shook his head, ridding his mind of the thought. “I can’t let him leave. If he goes, I’m following. This will just end very badly for all of us.”

“We’ll go with you,” Tubbo said, then looked at Ranboo. “Right, Boo?”

“Uh...” Ranboo trailed.

“No.”

Phil’s demand made them both snap back around.

“No one is following. I don’t need anybody else getting involved in this mess.”

“Oh, come on,” Tubbo cried. Ranboo was silent.

“No, and that’s final.” Phil rose to his feet, his wings shaking off the leaves and dirt caught in the feathers. “I’m going to find Tommy. I need to know everything he does. If you guys follow me, I’m dragging your asses right back here.”

No one replied. The boys watched as Phil crouched, his wings spread, and with a blast of wind, he was in the air, gone.

•••

Niki was almost sure she wouldn’t get a response from Wilbur when she got to the Glass Room and rung the bell.

So, she was surprised when she spotted him phase through the ceiling above her. It wasn’t often he did that, so it initially spooked her.

“Hi,” he said, stiffly.

Niki grimaced. “Hi. I was thinking, and I have something for you.”

She watched as Wilbur paused, blinked, then stepped over to the stairs, making his way up to the platform before sitting in front of her, legs dangling over the rail.

Niki reached in her satchel, and removed the dagger, blue light glinting brightly along it’s edge. “Remember what I said when you first brought me here?”

“To the world,” Wilbur replied.

Niki nodded. “It was my best friend who said that to me. She made me this.” Leaning over the edge, Niki extended her knife upward.

Wilbur seemed to hesitate, like it was forbidden to touch.

“I want you to have it,” Niki clarified.

At that, Wilbur’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Take it,” Niki insisted. When Wilbur didn’t, she put it on the platform next to him. “She made it for me when we were planning on traveling together. This was our declaration, what gave us the idea. It was a reminder of what we had.”

Wilbur stared at the knife for a long moment, then looked back up, meeting Niki’s sparkling eyes.

“I don’t like to look back very often,” she continued. “I loved her, but if I dwell, I’ll eventually be unable to let go. I’m happy here, with you, Wilbur. With everyone in this place. I want the knife to be your way of staying in the present, instead of my way of staying in the past.”

A pause. Wilbur’s hand twitched in his lap, and slowly, carefully, he picked up the knife, and turned it here and there. The light shined off the glittering gold engraving.

“Staying in the present,” he mumbled.

The expression he wore, Niki couldn’t read. There was... pain, there. She suddenly wondered if what she’d done was right.

Wilbur met her gaze again. It was soft, and welcoming. There was no malice or anger behind it. “Thank you, Niki.”

She couldn’t stifle her suspicions. She was questioning herself, now, too. “You’re welcome.”

•••

Phil landed on the roof of the Pub before he perched at the window, knocking a few times and waiting.

No answer.

Scowling, he knocked a bit harder. Still, no answer.

He reached forward, pushing the window open until it’s latch was there, and he squeezed his hand through to unlock it.

Tommy was there. His wings fluttered as he jumped and gasped, staggering a few feet away as Phil climbed inside.

Replacing that flinch was a quick expression of irritation. “I was hoping you’d leave.”

Phil examined the room. Jack wasn’t there.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, turning back. “I needed to ask what you found in Wilbur’s house.”

“Why does that matter?” Tommy sneered.

Scowling, Phil took a good look at him. He had his large backpack on the bed, and had seemingly gathered a multitude of things inside already. He was dressed in his red shawl and hood, his goggles on his head, and leather protection around his ankles, just above his talons.

“Where are you going?” Phil said sternly.

Tommy didn’t look up. His feathers were spiked for the whole conversation. “Why’s it matter to you?”

“Because I’m trying to make sure you’re not making a dumb decision,” Phil replied.

Tommy’s gaze snapped up for the first time, and he was scowling.

Phil understood immediately, and he breathed deep to reel back his emotions. “You’re going to the End.”

A small pause. Tommy scoffed, looking back down. “Try to, at least. I mean, the pages didn’t exactly mention what to do with the Blaze Powder and Ender Pearls when you get them.”

“Tommy, since when we’re you willing to do this much work for something you wanted? What do you want so badly?”

Tommy stepped away, approaching the fireplace, where he gathered folded, dried clothes and stuffed them in his bag. “As if you cared that much.”

Phil frowned, struggling to find a way to approach the situation. “Talk to me, please. I’m trying to figure this out.”

“I’ve got my own things to figure out,” Tommy replied, moving back to the bed and reaching into his nightstand. He took a large dagger, put it in a sheath, and strapped it to his belt.

“Are you angry with me?”

That was where Tommy paused. Phil felt the air grow heavier in the few seconds of silence.

“Are you only now catching on?” Tommy snapped, turning all the way to face him.

Phil was silent.

“I’ve been trying to tell you, but it’s not like you’ve been around to give me the chance.”

Phil hesitated before he spoke again. “What do you mean?”

Tommy seemed to take a second to calculate his words. “You’re upset with me before you even figured I was going to leave.”

Though Phil could think of reasons why he’d been angry just then, he deemed them unsafe to mention. He thought of how upset Wilbur had been, and that was where they almost slipped.

“I’m not sure why it matters so much to you that I go, if it never would’ve made a difference to you in the first place.”

“Tommy—“

“You’re here to talk about Wilbur, aren’t you?”

Silence.

“I tried to talk to you, I tried. But every time, the subject wasn’t right. If I wanted to come to you, you were busy.”

“Tommy—“

“I need to get ready.”

Tommy walked to Jack’s side, grabbing the backpack that was there, too, and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Talk now,” Phil replied, hiding the desperation in his tone. “I want to work this out with you. What could you want so badly?”

Tommy stiffened. His hand on the strap of the backpack tightened. “Somebody’s approval. Someone to tell me yes every once in a while. I make suggestions, they’re brushed off. I try to interact with people, they tell me to leave. And Jack, the one person who listens, he’s in trouble.”

“What—“

“No one was ever there for me,” Tommy continued, his tone rising, and speaking slow. “So, I’m trying to be there for Jack.”

“What about Tubbo?”

“Tubbo has Ranboo, he’ll work it out.”

“Tommy, if you feel this way, we need to talk it out, not run away from it.”

“Go talk to Wilbur. It’s your favorite pass time, anyway. Or Ranboo, you’ve seemed to like him lately.” He paced to the trap door.

Phil’s immediate reaction was to grab his wrist before he could go any further. “Tommy—“

“Why do you want to talk now that I’m leaving?” Tommy shouted, yanking his hand free of his grip.

“Because...” Phil breathed. “Because you’re making me realize there’s something wrong.”

“Oh, really? Took you long enough, wise guy. Fuck sake.”

“You don’t need to do this, Tommy. If you need to tell me something...”

Tommy grimaced, glaring at his feet. “Fine. When was the last time you really talked to me? I saw you visiting Wilbur the other day, when he didn’t leave the mansion for once. Poor him, right? The guy that can’t even get sick.”

Phil didn’t dare cut him off.

“Ranboo is visited every time it rains. But when Jack is fucked? No. After I almost broke my wing because I wanted to fly, like you? Toss some ice on it, it’ll be fine.”

That guilt was rising. Tommy was right, Phil knew it.

“Who was there for me when my wings were growing in?!” Tommy shouted. “You told Tubbo what was going on and didn’t even come fucking check on me! I was stuck in bed for a week because I could barely move, and Tubbo was the only one that helped! Then Wilbur comes along—‘oh, look at me, I’m gonna make some fucking’—I don’t know, community? Where I can continue to be ignored by Phil, but on bigger property.”

Tommy breathed harshly. His wings, finally, lowered against his back. The left one had a slight tick to it before it settled.

Gritting his teeth, Tommy turned. Hi hands were tight in fists. “If Jack is the only one who’ll listen, then Jack is the only one I’ll listen to.” He kicked the trap door open, and began to descend.

“Tommy,” Phil called, voice briefly caught in his throat. “I—“

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Tommy said, pointing his way. “Because if you were, you would’ve said it earlier.”

There was no goodbye before Tommy closed the trap door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the chapter! Not sure how quick the next few chapters after 6 will come out but we're picking up the story now so probably not too long lol


	6. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arcs so far: tommy babysits jack, ranboo, tubbo and philza bonding montage, and wilbur and niki each have an existential crisis
> 
> also thanks for the kudos and comments!!! appreciate y'all <33333
> 
> Warnings: Swearing

1 YEAR, 3 MONTHS EARLIER  
Tubbo liked the cities. Despite the lack of natural life, it was a little busy place with something always going on.

But that evening, there wasn’t much time for him to people watch. He was shifting through alleys, his shawl and hood hiding his intent, as he made his way across streets and buildings towards his destination.

That being the small courtyard tucked in between the most cramped buildings, where the most common trespasser was a cat or someone who had a back door.

Tubbo glanced up quickly as he approached an old, rickety door. His hand outstretched to the handle.

But it opened before he could enter. Phil stood in front of him, barely able to look up before the two of them crashed into each other. “Oh,” he said. “You’re here.”

“You’re here,” Tubbo exclaimed. “I thought you’d be out.”

“I have been. I needed to come back here for one of the maps.”

“Did you see Tommy?”

Phil paused, arching a brow. His face was shadowed by the rim of his hat. “No, I’ve only been in here for a minute.”

Tubbo frowned, glancing towards the stairs over Phil’s shoulder. “I’m worried about him.”

“Why?”

“He’s been in bed all day. He keeps saying his back is itchy and sore. I went out to grab ointment, but he wouldn’t come with me.”

Phil seemed to think for a second, he too glancing at the stairs. “Is he hungry?”

“He ate half our supply just his morning.”

At that, Phil scoffed, glancing at his boots. “Of course. What else did he say?”

“He, uh, had a headache, I think. He’s been sleeping a lot.”

There was a moment where Phil’s expression was briefly filled with energy, but he seemed to stifle it in favor of staying low and serious. “That sounds like he’s growing his wings in.”

Tubbo blinked. “Wait—He does get wings?!”

“Oh, yeah. Avians sometimes grow late.”

“Aren’t you Avian?”

“Wasn’t born in a flock. I don’t have his talons, either. Weird circumstance, I guess. But, congrats to him.”

Phil stepped past, wings out stretching.

“W-Wait!” Tubbo cried. “How do I help him?”

“Let him rest,” Phil replied. “That’s gonna hurt for a few days before they fully break in. Keep him fed, he’s gonna burn off a lot of energy. And the day they break in—you’ll know when that is, trust me—take him to the sewer. It won’t be a pretty scene.”

“I—“

“I need to meet with Wilbur. I’ll probably see you guys tomorrow.”

“But—“

There was no goodbye as Phil took off.

Tubbo blocked his face of the wind he left behind. Sighing, he turned around, slamming the door behind him.

Each step creaked as he quickly skipped up the stairs, using the pale yellow wall as support. “Hey, big man,” he called to the room as he entered. “Just saw Phil.”

When Tommy looked at the rickety bed on the other side of the room, his only response was a low groan.

“He told me what he thinks is going on,” Tubbo went on, approaching the bedside. He lowered his hood, antennae springing up, vibrating to the sounds in the room. “You’ll never believe it—wings, Tommy.”

The lump of blankets didn’t respond for a second. When they did, they shifted around, and Tommy’s head popped out from underneath, blonde hair a tangled bed head. “What?”

“That’s what he said,” Tubbo replied. “He said you could be growing your wings in.”

Tommy’s eyes darted, and he thought for a moment. “That’s impossible. Phil himself said it was impossible. He said I was—He said I was, fucking ‘frail,’ that’s what he said. He said I was too frail.”

“Well, apparently not anymore.”

A pause. Tommy sunk deeper beneath his blanket. “What’s that mean?”

Tubbo shrugged, holding out a red cloth wrapped around bread. “Well, I don’t think you’ll be able to go back to the flock either way.”

Tommy’s tired eyes glared at him, then the bread, before he snatched it up, and rolled over, back facing him.

“If it’s your wings that hurt, the ointment won’t work,” Tubbo muttered, partially to himself. “And Phil said this could last a couple days.”

Tommy immediately groaned, followed by him saying with his mouth full, “Fuck.”

“I’ll be here with you.” Tubbo said it with a spring to his tone Tommy could barely stand just then. “And I’ll keep getting bread for you.”

“No, don’t. You’re stealing it, they could kill you.”

“Phil said keep feeding you ‘cause you’re gonna burn off a lot of energy. I can do it, I’ll be fine.”

Tommy didn’t reply, instead taking a deep breath that turned into a wince. “Shit.”

•••

Wilbur hated being lonely. But he didn’t mind being alone.

So, it wasn’t hard to make the decision to be alone for a while when we was trying to fix his loneliness.

There were questions left unanswered in his... death... and it was leaving a gap in him. Phil might’ve been right, maybe change just did that to a person; the new environments twisting you around and pulling a hole free. What he might’ve had before this, whatever it may be, even after he died, might’ve just left a gap after he lost what he’d been used to.

But that call came from beyond that. He wasn’t sure if it was the idea of filling that hole, or some alien desire to know who he was before then, but it was luring him away from what he was used to. His mind couldn’t stay in the present when he was thinking of what could be his future.

That was why he was gathering his things up during the late hours. When another storm had been brewing, shoving wind into his creaky walls that felt too small.

He didn’t visit the Glass Room one more time, as much as he wanted to.

He stepped out into the field, where the rain was beginning to fall. Fitting, he thought. Just another sign that he really shouldn’t have been doing this.

He walked along the shore, where the wind swept water up to the grass and mud. He’d hoped to see the lagoon before he left, though it was much too dark. So, he looked ahead, and ignored the Pub, the light of Ranboo’s mineshaft, Tubbo’s treehouse.

Something grabbed his arm. He had no time to react before he was dragged sideways and crashed into the water.

He was upside-down when he opened his eyes, and he looked forward to see Niki, she also being upside-down in his perspective. “What are you doing?” she mouthed through the deep blue water, and there was silence around them.

Wilbur twisted so he was upright again, and broke the surface with a harsh gasp.

Niki emerged right after, slicking back her hair. “Don’t try to tell me that you were going for a walk,” she snapped. “I see that bag.”

Wilbur hesitated. Though he could feel the water lap against him, it never soaked his clothes, or his hair. Like that hazy blue rim around him fended it off. “I’m sorry,” was all he said.

Niki’s eyes narrowed, but she looked more upset than angry.

“I listened to you,” Wilbur said before Niki could pry. “I did. But I think the message hit me in a different way than you wanted it to.”

“Why are you leaving, then?” Niki asked.

Wilbur breathed slow through his nose. Despite not being affected by the water, he could feel it’s cold. “I’m looking to my future. Which means I need to address the past.”

Niki seemed to pause at that. She glanced down at the water rippling around her.

“That’s the only way I’ll be able to move on,” Wilbur added, before wading his way to shore. The mud didn’t stain his clothes, either.

Niki followed, lingering on the shore, getting as close as she could. “Y’know, you could address the past without risking your life,” she called with a slight bit of a sneer.

Wilbur ignored. Niki pouted, dipping beneath the water to propel herself ahead of him. She resurfaced. “I don’t think you understood what I was trying to tell you.”

“I did, Niki,” Wilbur replied, calling over the storm’s wind. The rain was beginning to pick up. “I guess I just thought a little more than I should’ve.”

“I hope you thought of the people here during that time,” Niki said, before pushing ahead of Wilbur again and popping back up over the water. 

“I did. What’s the difference between me leaving now and me leaving later when I’m turning into a Phantom?” He scoffed, a broken smirk flashing on his face. “What, are you guys gonna skip sleeping a few nights to see me?”

Wilbur could see it in Niki’s eyes, that moment of understanding. “You want to come back to life.”

Wilbur’s smirk wavered.

“Is that even possible?” Niki breathed, and her anger had been replaced with something akin to fear.

Wilbur was thrown off by it. “The amount of information torn apart in that bunker, the things lost... from what I know this place can do, it’s not much of a stretch to think about it.”

“But why? Will you just wander from now on, until you change?”

No response.

“Wilbur.”

Silence.

“Wilbur.”

He kept moving.

He barely heard the sloshing water over the pouring rain. He didn’t hear the footsteps following him at all before a hand clasped around his sleeve, claws grazing his skin through the fabric.

Wilbur spun around, and broke the his gaze with Niki barely a second after he’d met her eyes.

“This is how you want to leave?” she said, voice tight. “So dismissively like this?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry? Everyone is going to worry.”

Wilbur tried to pull away. Niki’s grip tightened, and she stepped closer on poorly balanced feet. “What if you just... keep wandering? And forget us? You can’t die. You’ll just keep going until you turn into a Phantom.”

“Unless I find the End.”

“What if you can’t?”

The rain was pouring. Thunder made the ground shudder.

Niki’s hold on him softened. The claws that had poked through his sleeve retracted. “You’re not going to listen to me.”

Wilbur frowned when she glanced at her feet, then looked at him again. He couldn’t tell if she’d been close to crying or not due to the rain. “I’m coming with you.”

He stiffened. She didn’t let him go. “What?”

“We’ll find a way. You found a way to get me here, I will find a way to stay with you.”

“Niki—“

“You didn’t let me be alone, and I won’t let you be alone, either.”

Niki couldn’t recall a time Wilbur had been so silent. He was good at hiding his emotions. But she knew him well enough that he masked them with silence.

He never met her gaze.

“I’m coming with you,” Niki said sternly, the rain beginning to drown out her voice. “To keep you from forgetting. Whether you like it or not.”

•••

Tubbo had fallen asleep in the ravine while they were waiting for Phil, lulled by the warbles and trills Ranboo spoke in towards the silhouette at the other end of the cavern. He sat rested against the wall, away from the edge, one hand picking at the buttons of his loose tunic with his claw while his other hand flipped pages in a book in his lap.

The Enderman’s purple eyes cut through the darkness. It crept along the edge, sharing quick words with Ranboo before continuing on. All of Tubbo’s weight was leaned into his shoulder.

A new sound filled the cavern; the echoing taps of footsteps. Ranboo looked up to the entrance to see Phil enter, barely illuminated by a lantern on the wall.

“How’d it go?” Ranboo asked quietly, Tubbo stirring a little against him.

Phil’s hands rose, then dropped at his side, an exaggerated shrug. “He’s leaving, too.”

“Tommy is?” Ranboo said, much quieter, hoping not to disturb Tubbo. His antennae shuddered a little, anyway.

“Yep,” Phil replied. He was facing the maw of the ravine, wings hiding his front from the angle Ranboo sat in. “Gave it to me straight, too. I fucked up.”

That low rumble had returned, just barely there behind Ranboo’s words as he spoke with a tight voice. “W-Well, now what?”

A pause. Tubbo mumbled a little at Ranboo’s side.

Phil turned to glance at him. Then, he looked at Ranboo, particularly the bow tie he wore with the emerald gem at it’s front, the closest thing Phil could ever get to meeting eyes with the kid. “I might have to go after them.”

Ranboo tensed, very visibly. The rumbling in his throat got a little louder. “A-Are you sure that’s a good idea? That’s two of the oldest people here out of the picture.”

“It won’t do us any better if Wilbur is here and unable to work as needed,” Phil replied. He was scratching his chin again. “And Tommy is... reckless. If Jack is sick, that’s not gonna do him any good.”

“What about us?” Ranboo asked. “What about Tubbo, and Niki?”

Phil sighed lowly, turning back to the ravine. “I’ll talk to Tubbo when he wakes up. Niki... I don’t know. There’s a good chance she went with Wilbur.”

Ranboo didn’t want to ask what would happen to him. If Phil suggested they go with him... His gaze dropped on the floor, over to Tubbo where he was curled up against his arm.

“I’ll let you know when I leave,” Phil called. Ranboo couldn’t come up with something to say before he was leaving, disappearing into the stairwell from whence he came.

Silence filled the cavern. Ranboo breathed, trilling quietly to himself, a sound he used when he needed to relax.

Tubbo shifted. “I was awake for all of that.”

Frowning, Ranboo looked down. Tubbo was definitely awake, though his eyes were dark with tiredness.

Ranboo’s ear twitched. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I can avoid a second rundown from Phil later, now.”

Water dripping nearby echoed throughout the cavern. Some cold breezes swept through, followed by the creaks and moans of loose stone crumbling and shifting in the dark.

Tubbo sat up, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand. “So, what are you gonna do, when Phil leaves?”

Frowning, Ranboo moved to be more comfortable, crossing his legs as his tail flicked forward to rest at his side. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, that’s pretty much everyone here gone, except for us.”

There was a sort of weight to Tubbo’s tone that Ranboo quickly caught on to and grew skeptical of. He peered down at him, scowling, ears pulled slightly back. “Are... you thinking of going?”

Silence. Tubbo looked the opposite direction.

Ranboo breathed, keeping himself as calm as he could. “You can tell me, if you want to.”

Tubbo tensed, folding his hands anxiously as he turned to look at Ranboo with a broken smirk. “Yeah?”

He said it like he was sure he’d make him angry, or upset. But Ranboo knew how he’d feel before he even said it, and that feeling was disappointment. “Why?”

Tubbo stumbled over his words for a moment. “I-I mean, I just...” He sighed. “For my whole life, when I was with Tommy, before Phil found us, after Phil found us, I always wanted somewhere that felt like home. When Wilbur suggested a place where everyone who was different could stay, I thought that’d be it. And I love all of the people here. I love you, I love Tommy. But I just feel...” His smirk was gone. “Unfulfilled.”

Ranboo couldn’t hide the way he was growing more and more upset; the rumbling gave him away. His friends and the one place he felt as if he belonged was slipping through his fingers. “Y-Y’know, we, we worked very hard to get here, it’s–it’d be kind of a shame to just–”

“Ranboo.”

He fell silent.

Tubbo’s smile was solemn. “You mean to tell me that you’ve never felt homesick?” He snickered a little, glancing at his hands. “Homesick for a place you’ve never been, surely.”

“You don’t feel at home here?”

“It’s not that! I just... I didn’t know I really wanted to figure out what I was until now. I don’t even know what I’m a hybrid of. I used to think I was cursed. But now there’s a way for me to find out where I come from. Wouldn’t you want that, too?”

“I know where I come from,” Ranboo argued, the slightest of sternness in his tone. “And I’m not a big fan of it.”

Tubbo’s gaze darkened. He looked away, his shoulders slouching. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it... it’s fine.”

Silence fell. It was long and heavy, only filled by Ranboo’s rumbles and the cave’s mutterings.  
Tubbo shifted in his seat. His hand rose up, and Ranboo flinched ever so slightly when it rested on the back of his neck, where he felt his rumbles vibrate beneath his very, very short fur.

“You’re like a cat,” Tubbo said, suddenly. “You purr like a cat.”

“Is this what this conversation has shifted into?” Ranboo exclaimed, with the slightest bit of humor in his tone.

The air was cleared by Tubbo’s laugh. All Ranboo had now was the thought of just how terrible he knew he’d feel when Tubbo was gone. Along with everyone else. 

Doubt flashed only briefly in his head.

He breathed, Tubbo’s hand lightening as a little warble made it vibrate. “I don’t want to leave the only home I’ve ever had.”

For a second, Tubbo forgot about avoiding eye contact. It was the briefest of moments that made Ranboo’s heart lurch, a moment where his thoughts flashed between his. 

He did want this. He really did. 

“I–It won’t be like I’ll be gone forever,” Tubbo said, and Ranboo could tell it was a lie. “I’ll come by.”

But Tubbo seemed to know Ranboo was smarter than that. His weight shifted against Tubbo’s, and the rumbles turned to a quiet coo–a sound Tubbo couldn’t recall ever hearing.

The pause in between was torturous. But Ranboo’s next question was worse.

“Will this make you happy?”

Tubbo stiffened. “I was already happy.”

“But will this make you happier?”

Beat. “Yes.”

“Then, I won’t stop you.” Ranboo pulled his knees to his chest. “I’ll just really, really miss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RANBOO ANGST POGGGGGG


	7. Straight Through the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, Graphic descriptions of gore on a fictional/fantasy creature

Tommy dropped his satchel in front of him, then leaned forward to rest his chin in his hand. “I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

They’d stopped walking when the storm rolled in, and took cover in a small cave denting a cliff side.

Jack was sitting barely even an inch away from the campfire, wrapped in multiple blankets and his hood as he glanced at the bag, then at Tommy. “Maybe you should’ve broken into Wilbur’s mansion one more time.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Tommy sat down in the dirt, leaning forward to grab the bag and rest it on in his lap. “Ingredients needed Blaze Powder and Ender Pearls. Dunno what the fuck we’re supposed to do with that, but I don’t think I know how we’re supposed to get an Ender Pearl.”

Jack scowled, lifting his knees and hugging them to his chest. “Where do you even get an Ender Pearl from?” 

“Wouldn’t we like to know.”

As the rain continued to pour, and thunder made the walls around them shudder, Tommy opened up his bag and dug through his papers. “I’ve... never fought an Enderman before. Tubbo did once when I looked at one accidentally.”

“I’ve never seen one,” Jack replied. “I only know what you’ve told me.”

“Good for you. Fuckers are scary.”

“Do I want to see one?”

“Well, considering the situation we’re in now... Fuck.” The last word came out in a hiss as he continued digging through his bag.

Jack scowled his way. “What’s wrong?”

“The notebook,” Tommy growled. “I must have left it at Tubbo’s. Shit.”

A pause.

Jack narrowed his eyes.”We should really get into the habit of planning ahead.”

“Fuck me. As if it was going to help shit anyway. We got, we got fuckin’–We got what the portal looks like, and...” Silence. He shoved the bag into the ground. “What the fuck do we do with the Ender Pearls?!”

“Not by yelling at them.”

“Okay–Fuck you, Manifold. Sit in the campfire, or something.” He kicked the bag away.

Jack simply stared. After a moment, he tore off the blankets and shawl he wore, then stepped forward.  
Tommy watched blankly as Jack stepped into the center of the campfire, sat down, and locked with Tommy’s gaze. Not without flipping him off, too, though.

Tommy blinked. “What the fuck.”

“Overworld fire is shit.”

“Sorry we can’t compare to literal hell. How are your clothes not burning?”

“They’re the clothes I made in the Nether. They don’t burn.”

“Oh.”

Crashing thunder made Tommy flinch. He leaned forward, peering through the mouth of the cave up at the pitch black roof of the forest. “This doesn’t look like it’s going to lift any time soon. We’re probably stuck here.”

“You think Phil will find us?”

“He’s not coming.”

Silence. Jack scooted out of the campfire, which was partially snuffed out by his presence, only to grow again when he was out of it. The fire didn’t stick to him, and he quickly wrapped his blanket back over his shoulders. “Y’know, down in the Nether, I used to learn about legends.”

“You can speak to those things in the Nether?”

“Read and listen. Not speak. I literally can’t make the noises they can.”

“Blows my mind they got the minds to even come up with legends at all.” 

Jack simply rolled his eyes. “Anyway. I’m pretty sure what I read came, like, a super long time ago, but the point is–What I read, I thought of it when I first met Phil. It was eerie.”

“Really?” Tommy exclaimed, straightening in his seat. 

Jack nodded. A small tremble shook him, and he added another blanket to his shoulders. “One winged man who raided an entire fortress on his own?”

“Oh, shit,” was Tommy’s immediate reaction. “When was that?”

“Few centuries ago, as far as I know.”

The fire flickered dimly. Tommy tossed a handful of dry sticks in the pile. 

“The Blaze Powder had me thinking, too,” Jack went on. “There was a point in time where Blazes almost went extinct. Before any of us were around, but I thought of it after you told me about the End.”

Tommy leaned back against the cave’s wall, little wings spread sideways, barely big enough to even touch the floor. “Pretty peculiar that Phil never mentioned his Nether endeavors.” The comment was immediately followed by him snickering. “Nether endeavors.”

“Probably didn’t want to be known as the guy that eradicated an entire building’s population on his own.”

“Right. So, he’ll be known as the guy that breaks into people’s houses when he needs...”

Jack glared at him before he could finish.

“He’s a bad influence,” Tommy clarified. 

Jack stayed silent, turning to look at the fire. “Should we really be doing this?”

Tommy tensed. He stood up, wings stretching as he paced slowly across the cave. “I don’t think we’ve got much choice at this point. We’re... committed, now.”

“Home is still there.”

“Wilbur probably isn’t,” Tommy replied. “If he’s gone, Niki’s probably gone. And Phil probably went to go look for him. And we’re not fixing you by going back home.”

“And if this doesn’t work?”

A pause. Tommy looked down at the fire. “Bring fire from the Nether.”

“It goes out in the Overworld.”

Tommy growled. “Yeah, that’s about what I expected.” He sat back down. “We’ll find a way.”

•••

Wilbur and Niki had a lot of compromising to do.

They’d already concluded this was going to be very, very difficult. Though, at the very least, they had something in common; they did their best work in the rain.

So, they were quick on their feet that night, doing their best to get the most out of the storm. Niki had swiftly collected her most essential things, like weapons, kelp to eat, more clothes and fabric.

“Have you ever fought an Enderman?” Niki asked warily. “I never have, ‘cause–well.”

Wilbur shrugged, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets. “Phil taught me how to deal with them, but I’ve never actually done it myself. They don’t pay much attention to me, probably because, y’know.” He gestured to his whole, translucent body.

Niki’s smile was solemn. “How do you kill one?”

“You slice their knees when they run to you, then aim for their ribs. I read in my papers that the Pearl is there, but Phil never mentioned it, so I don’t think he knew.”

At that, Niki’s expression darkened. “But we need the Pearl.”

“And that is where I’m drawing a blank.”

Thunder crashed above them. Lightning streaked across the sky. The long grass field danced wildly in the wind, brushing along their sides.

“Do we... have the means, to fight those things?” Niki’s hand hovered over the hilt of the sword hanging loosely off her hip.

Wilbur had rested his wrist nonchalantly on his own sword’s pommel. “Phil taught me well. And I’ve seen you carry your own very, very well.”

A grin flashed on Niki’s face in response to the compliment. “Okay. Well, let’s think. We have each other.”

“When it rains.”

“Yeah, true. When it rains. But, we’ve got moments when I can hold my breath. If we can calculate well, we can pull it off.”

“Pin an Enderman down, one of us slices the knees, the other gets the Pearl out.” At that, Niki paused, a twisted look of disgust on her face. “Would we have to... carve it out?”

It took a moment, but Wilbur was copying her expression after he thought about it. “Ew. Uh, which one of us is doing that?”

“I’m the one lowest, in the water! I do the knees!”

“Wha—okay, how about we wait for when the time comes, and we’ll figure it out then?”

Niki moaned, a pouty scowl on her face. “Okay.”

A pause.

“This is a very strange conversation,” she added.

Wilbur snickered. Though, his attention was dragged away when a weak breeze swept by, and he looked up to the roof of the forest. The rain wasn’t pouring as hard anymore. “Seems like the storm is letting up. We should find the river.”

That was what they’d done, coming across the river just in time as the rain faded to a soft drizzle.

“Wilbur.” Niki spoke suddenly and sternly. “What are we going to do about the Blaze Powder?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t go in the Nether. You can stay there for a very limited time, which I’m assuming is not enough time to get Blaze Powder.”

Wilbur hadn’t thought of it. Now that he was, he was wishing he didn’t have to. “Hm.”

“Maybe we should think about that after we get the Pearls,” Niki announced, before stepping on to the river bank, and turning to face him. “I don’t think I have the energy to think too deeply about it just yet.” She tipped backwards, crashing into the river.

Wilbur grimaced. “We should try to find Pearls as quick as we can.”

Niki emerged, shaking her hair out of her face, water trickling down her shoulders. “You don’t want to set up camp?”

“Not tonight, no. I want to try and get as far away from the lagoon as possible.”

Niki’s humor was gone, and her eyes looked him up and down. “You’re avoiding Phil, aren’t you?”

Wilbur shrugged. “The man will fly blind if he needs to to find me.”

Niki snorted, wading forward, her fin slithering through the water behind her. “How did you guys meet?”

There was a moment where Wilbur hesitated, only because of the flash of guilt in his chest. “It was a long time ago, about ten years before now. He was traveling from down South to avoid the officers from... uh, I can’t even remember, Surfith, I think. I was traveling, too. I’d set up camp in the same ruins he had, and he thought... well, more like realized, the place was haunted.”

“And you just hit it off?”

“I guess we did. He offered to let me stick with him. I had nowhere to go, anyway, so, here I am. He’s taught me a lot since then.”

Niki smiled, and opened her mouth to speak.

But a snapping twig in the woods caught them both off guard. Wilbur retrieved his sword. Niki below him did the same.

The dark shape crept out from behind the trees, sucking up all the light, just a pitch black form silently moving along swaying grass.

Wilbur breathed a wheezy sigh, eyes dropping to the ground. “Okay. I’m gonna look at it.”

“Could it... kill you? What would happen?” Niki whispered.

“I mean, if it ripped me apart, I would probably turn into dust, or something. Whatever, I’m gonna look at it. Watch my back.”

Niki didn’t reply.

Wilbur took a breath, his chest shuddering with the action. He lifted his eyes, up to the silhouette behind the trees, and stared, despite the intense urge to curb his gaze.

It took a moment. But when it happened, he barely had time to react.

It’s head snapped around, intense purple eyes shooting through the darkness, looking straight at him. Then, they were getting closer.

Wilbur shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

The creature got closer.

Rumbling and hissing filled Wilbur’s ears, though the harsh sound felt as if it was reverberating inside his head. He forced his eyes to stay on the Enderman, but the noise was close to ripping his heard apart.

The creature seemed to be next to him in the blink of an eye. Claws rose up in the air.

Wilbur barely had a second. His duck was messy and uncoordinated, but he managed to stagger away, out of the line of fire.

The creature turned, jaw unhinging wide and alien as it reached for him with long, lanky limbs.

His sword sliced up across it’s wrist. It’s only reaction was a screech before it’s good arm swung around, catching his shoulder.

It was heavy enough to throw him off his feet. He’d barely hit the ground before he instinctively went invisible.

But the good claw shot down. He couldn’t even move before it gripped him around the collar and hauled him into the air.

The moment in between was brief but torturous. That screeching hadn’t left his ears.

Then bright blue suddenly cut through the front of the monster—Niki’s sword, Wilbur registered. From the impalement came an opening, where the sword split open it’s rib cage and exposed a familiar deep teal orb.

Without a second thought, Wilbur dug his hand into it’s middle, hand catching around the cold sphere. He yanked it through it’s ribs, only for it to catch on a webbing like substance that bled black.

Wilbur yanked harder. The sword left it’s chest through the back.

With one more hard pull, the black vines released the Pearl, and Wilbur was falling. So was the Enderman, crashing into the mud, dead.

Wilbur wheezed, peering down at the pearl in his hand as his hearing returned. “It caught me when I was invisible.”

When Niki didn’t respond, he sat up and turned, to see her surface from below the water. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Wilbur turned visible again, to see his hand was trembling. “You?”

“Fine. We have to do that multiple times?”

Shrugging, Wilbur adjusted his seat, sitting cross legged in front of the corpse behind him. “At least twelve, if the papers were accurate.”

“Great.”

“Here, wanna see?” Wilbur extended the Pearl to her.

Though she looked disgusted, she obliged, taking the Pearl and holding it close. “I’ve never seen one before.”

“Phil used to use them on Nether trips. He showed me how to use them.”

“Huh.” She handed it back.

Her eyes landed on his hand as he shakily took it back. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I promise, Niki. I’m okay,” he said, though he couldn’t hide his shaking.

•••

Ranboo peered upward at the curling branches of the Delivery Tree, expecting to see Phil, only to see a gray sky.

There were no more white tags hanging from branches. Tommy didn’t write swears on his papers anymore, Wilbur didn’t have little drawings on his.

It had happened so quick. But Ranboo considered himself to be used to it. Didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A gust of wind blasted into his back, followed by a small thump. “Hey, mate.”

Ranboo tensed, turning to face Phil, tail flicking, ear flapping a little. “Hi.”

Phil kept his gaze neutral, as he looked up at Ranboo, though avoided his eyes. “Will you and Tubbo be okay alone?”

Right, he didn’t want Tubbo to come. It would do him no good to mention it, he thought. Ranboo wanted Tubbo to be happy, and if he had to lie to get that... “I, I think so.”

Phil nodded. “I intend to get them home as soon as I can. It shouldn’t take long. Remember not to teleport too far without someone watching you, you know how tired you get, wouldn’t want to lose you out there. And keep Tubbo away from the water, for God’s sake, I’ve had to fight him on this for weeks.”

“Why?”

“Kid sinks like a rock.”

“Oh.”

Phil pulled on his hat from where it rested against his back.

“Where, where are you heading?” Ranboo asked shakily.

He shrugged. “My best bet for now is North. Most open area and they’d be looking for Endermen out on the fields.”

Ranboo gulped. “Isn’t... isn’t Alizar in that direction?”

“Yep.”

Ranboo was rumbling again. Phil seemed to occupied in his own thoughts to notice. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. And if you even think of following me—“

“You’ll drag us back.”

“Good man.”

Phil stepped past, and spread his wings, gray feathers against a gray sky. “Bye.”

Ranboo didn’t get to respond before he blasted into the sky. He watched the little shape soar along the clouds, over the field.

Footsteps approached from behind.

“W-Where did he say he was going?” Tubbo breathed.

Ranboo hesitated, the name catching in his throat. “Alizar.”

“Oh, really? Y’know, I’ve never been there.”

Ranboo didn’t respond, the lightheartedness in Tubbo’s tone lost on him.

He appeared at Ranboo’s side, peering up with sparkling eyes. “You sure you don’t want to come with me, big man?”

Ranboo breathed slow, trying his best to stifle his emotions, but it wasn’t working. “Yeah,” he said, his voice tight.

Silence.

Ranboo flinched when little arms suddenly wrapped around his side. “Kneel down,” Tubbo mumbled into his shawl. “I can’t hug you like this.”

A halfhearted snicker fell out of him as Ranboo lowered to a knee, and threw his arms around Tubbo, holding him close. “There’s a lot of things I didn’t get to tell you.”

“But we’ll see each other again,” Tubbo replied. “I insist we will. I’m manifesting it.”

Ranboo stopped the tears from burning his cheeks by burying his face into Tubbo’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to go to Alizar.”

“I’ll be fine, really. Look at me, I’m tough.” He knocked a few times on the hard pieces attached to his arm.

Ranboo snickered, pulling away and rapidly wiping his eyes dry with his sleeves.

Tubbo’s eyes darkened. “Sorry, Ranboo. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Not your fault.” He sniffed. “I just hope you’re as happy as you want to be.”

Tubbo nodded. A solemn grin formed on his face, as he punched Ranboo’s shoulder and said, “Just for you.”

Tubbo left after that. Ranboo didn’t watch him go.

He simply sat at the base of the Delivery Tree, knees to his chest as thunder rumbled somewhere far off, leaving him to mourn alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme tell y'all that ender sequence killed me


	8. Birds of a Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello :> thanks for reading!
> 
> Warnings: Swearing

“So, I had a thought. One you’re not gonna like, but a thought either way.”

Jack scowled at Tommy as he spoke. “Do I even want to hear it?”

“Blaze Powder,” Tommy said. “We need to go to the Nether to get it.”

Jack didn’t respond.

“Ender Pearls... I, I don’t know what we do about those, I’ve never fought an Enderman.”

“What about the Nether, have you been there?”

“Once, with Wilbur.”

Jack hesitated. He tensed in place, lifting one of his blankets over his head. “If we have to go to the Nether... I might know one way we can get the Pearls. Not a big fan of the Powder just yet.”

“Pearls from the Nether?”

“Hoglins collect them. Throw enough gold at them, they’ll give you something in return. Can’t guarantee Pearls, though.”

“Like trading?”

“Yes, except more infuriating.”

“Well, I’ve got some gold.”

“There’s gold in the Nether. Just sell their own gold back to them.”

“What about the Powder?”

Jack’s gaze dropped at that.

Tommy narrowed his eyes, and looked away. “Okay, how about this: You do the trading, I’ll get the powder.”

“Could you handle that on your own?”

“‘Course I fuckin’ can. Never doubt me ever again.”

“Okay, I’m just saying. I brought a pick, we could use it on obsidian, if we could find it.”

“We could use a lava pool, too. Just to toss you in it, and see what happens.”

“I wouldn’t mind one right now, that’s for sure.”

The continued pacing through the woods, the jagged terrain slowing their trip just a bit. Tommy couldn’t help but notice the effort it took Jack to move along rocky ground or over logs. He was getting stuffed, colder. It had only been a month since he’d arrived, but Tommy knew that was already much too long.

“We should hurry up, then,” he muttered.

•••

Phil was interesting to watch when he thought he was alone.

Tubbo noticed a few things; one, he hummed to himself a lot. Songs Tubbo had never heard before, even when they were travel buddies. Two, he also swore a lot more when he made a mistake or ran into an obstacle.

It was kind of funny to Tubbo, to see his peer, someone he was close to considering his mentor, get angry at little things. It was unusual to see, but at the same time, it made total sense. Phil could be a bitter man when it came down to it.

Tubbo knew where Alizar was, so it wasn’t a requirement that he needed to stick to Phil’s heels. But it was also a long trip he regretted deciding to take alone.

Phil was taking a break early in the morning. Tubbo sat nearby, watching him organize his things in his bag or adjust his cloak or stretch out his wings. His back was to Tubbo and his hiding place of a rock and bushes surrounding it. The gray feathers were large enough to block all of his vision. 

Tubbo was ready to move whenever Phil did. But his thoughts were derailed when Phil moved–his wing swung sideways, and Tubbo only got a glimpse of his face before he ducked below the rock.

He listened intently. Phil was surprisingly silent. Daring to check again, Tubbo was shocked to find the space Phil had previously stood in was empty.  
Frowning, he stood up, eyeing every space nearby for where he could’ve gone so quick. 

His antennae sensed a presence behind him last second.

He squealed when a blade suddenly shot down at his side, making a loud screech as it crashed into the stone. He shot around, only to look up and straight into Phil’s eyes behind him.

“You’re dead, now,” Phil sneered, lifting his sword and propping the blade over his shoulder. “Congrats.”

“How’d you know–”

“You’re not as stealthy as you like to think you are,” Phil replied, stepping around the rock. His right wing batted into the back of Tubbo’s head as he passed, almost sending him to the ground. “Why’d you follow me?”

“I wanted to come with you,” Tubbo said. “And Tommy was heading this way. Well, everyone is heading this way.”

Phil’s dark eyes squeezed shut, and he buried his face in his hands as he muttered, “Fuck sake.” He lowered his hands, instead propping them on his hips. “Did you leave Ranboo alone at the lagoon?”

Tubbo pouted, folding his arms over his chest. “He can handle himself.”

“Of course he can. Still a mean thing to do. You know how he feels about being alone.”

“He said he wanted me to do this. And besides, you left, too.”

“With intention to go back. Did you come for Tommy, or for the End?”

Tubbo fell silent, completely avoiding his gaze. 

“This is usually the point where I figure it out based on how you reacted to the question, but you could genuinely be thinking of either option. I’m gonna put my bets on Tommy.”

“Kinda both?”

“I’m owed five coin.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes, watching Phil as he adjusted his hat so the shadow was darker over his face. “I need you to tell me why you want to do this. Seems like everyone has a goddamn reason.”

The bitterness in his tone made Tubbo hesitant. “I just... I needed to know, Phil. I never knew what I was, now, maybe I can!”

Phil glared for a long, silent moment. Then, he stepped forward, and extended a hand.

He plopped it on the top of Tubbo’s head. “You’re Tubbo,” he said, then pulled his hand away, his curls spiking. “There. Now you know.”

Tubbo sighed. “You know what I meant.”

“Yes, I did, and it’s a stupid goal. You’re a good kid already, Tubbo, you don’t need to go on some sort of validation journey. We don’t need two kids doing that.”

“Well, what about Tommy?!”

“Getting Tommy is my job.”

“Tommy is my brother, Phil. If you’re not gonna let me go to the End, then I’m not gonna let you send me back home if you’re the one going to look for him.”

“You’re no good to Tommy if you’re dead.”

“I’m no good to him if I’m not there for him, either.”

Silence. Phil looked one way, then the other. He adjusted his cloak, buttoning it closed while he sighed. “Well, we’re quite a ways away from home. I wouldn’t be able to take you back without losing Wilbur’s trail.”

“You’re stuck with me.”

“You can go back on your own.”

“Do I look like I’m gonna do that?”

Phil groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fucking hell.”

“You’re stuck with me,” Tubbo repeated, stepping up to his side.

Only for Phil to crouch down, and blast off past the trees, leaving him on the ground. “Hey!” Tubbo cried to the sky. “Asshole!”

•••

“I’ve got an idea.”

Niki arched a brow, perking up from where she leaned against the riverbank. “Do I want to know it?”

“Phil used to tell me to always go to a church if I ever need help,” Wilbur explained, partially through a piece of bread in his mouth. “He said the priests are almost always professional brewers. They can give you healing potions, invisibility if you need to run, it’s a rule that they protect and heal the people that come to them for help.”

“What are we gonna do with potions?”

“Well, some of them require Blaze Powder to make them.”

Niki’s eyes lit up. “Oh. I see.” But then, quickly, she looked disappointed. “But I can’t come with you into the city. Even if there was a river or something that cut through, it’s too dangerous for me.”

Wilbur frowned, too, looking down at his half finished bread in his hand. “Fuck, you’re right.”

A pause. Then, Niki shrugged. “I could watch the Pearls. They’d probably give someone reason to try and mug you in the city, and I don’t want to go through the whole process again.”

“We’ve still got five to go,” Wilbur added, stuffing the rest of the bread in his mouth. “You’re right. You watch the Pearls, stay here, I’ll go visit the church and see what they have. We’ll meet right back here.”

“Deal,” Niki chimed with a grin.

The city was only minutes away from the river where Wilbur left Niki, tucked into a pocket of mountain ranges that were lit by the gold lights below.

Wilbur was invisible as he stepped on to the stone path and into the city’s borders, only shallow crowds occupying the streets that morning.

He searched the sky for a steeple, and when he found it, off to the right tucked into a courtyard, he was moving quickly. He was given no mind by those out early.

He pushed through an alley. As soon as he pushed out the other end, he was startled by two children suddenly sprinting past, playing with a ball and laughing loudly.

It made him pause for a second. He’d realized only then how far away from home he really was.

•••

1 YEAR, 3 MONTHS EARLIER  
Tommy had been sleeping for longer than a day after the wings came in.

They were... small. And frail. Though, they were colored a mix of reds and golds, so at the very least, he could say they were pretty.

Before they were meant to leave, Phil had come by. Tubbo watched with uncertain caution while Phil moved the blankets away and checked him over.

“They grew in fine,” he muttered, partially to himself. “They’re just... small.”

“Would he fly?” Tubbo asked.

Phil stepped away from the bed, crossing his arms. “I don’t think so.”

Tubbo didn’t respond.

Phil took a breath, his face turned away from Tubbo as he thought. “We should get moving. You need to carry my things if I’m gonna be carrying Tommy until he wakes up.”

“We can’t just wake him up now?”

“It’d do him best to let him rest. He burnt off a lot of energy growing those in.”

Still silent, Tubbo turned away, grabbing the sack and backpack sitting in the corner of the room.

“Everything is set.” Wilbur suddenly speaking right behind him made him jump, and he turned around to see Wilbur standing beside Phil.

“When’d you get here?” Phil asked, as he scooped up Tommy and rested him between his wings.

Wilbur hesitated. “Few minutes ago.”

“Eavesdropper.”

As Tubbo headed for the door, Phil’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Hold on.” His other hand came up, pressing lightly on his antennae, while the other hand lifted his hood above them.

Tubbo grimaced. “Thanks.”

“Nobody needs to know.”

Wilbur vanished again in the daylight. Phil was forced to move within the alleys, following Wilbur’s whispers to avoid being seen. Tubbo stuck with him, and he couldn’t help but occasionally glare up at where Tommy slept rested on his shoulder. Those wings were scraggly and unkept, and it was clear they’d definitely never hold his weight.

He wasn’t sure if that was worse than never growing them in at all.

“You know where to meet us?” Phil asked Tubbo.

Tubbo nodded. “South end, next to the big statue.”

“Good. I’m going to take off, now. Meet me there.”

“I’ll be there, too,” Wilbur’s voice called from the air. “You just won’t see me.”

When Wilbur met Phil at the statue, it’d fallen silent. The soft chatters of the locals and music playing somewhere filled the air, all the way up to where Phil was perched on the head of the statue of a woman in robes. Wilbur stood in the statue’s palm, looking up at Phil and the young boy he carried on his back. “Phil?”

Phil continued looking out to the city. “Yep.”

“About Tommy,” Wilbur said. “He said he was kicked out of the flock.”

Phil hesitated. “He did.”

“But you said that kids will sometimes grow late,” Wilbur went on. “Why would they kick him out if they didn’t know what could come in the future?”

Phil’s gaze dipped a little. Tommy stirred against his shoulders, muttering in his sleep something Wilbur couldn’t hear. “I already thought of that,” Phil replied. “It’s hard to tell, but I assume... I assume Tommy ran away.”

Wilbur fell silent.

“He might’ve been embarrassed,” Phil continued. “Or it’s possible his flock could’ve concluded he’d never fly, even if he did grow them. And Avians, they’re very plucky.”

“Did you have one?”

Phil scoffed. “No. I was the weird one. No talons, no hollow bones, and yet, I flew. No one really liked me when I was around Tommy’s age.”

Wilbur snickered, though it was halfhearted. “Will... Will Tommy be alright, having frail wings, and all?”

Phil’s own wings spiked. Some dark thought must’ve crossed his mind that he quickly shoved away. “As long as he has someone,” he said, finally. “I think he’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to put here except I'm coming up to publishing parts I've been anticipating writing so basically >:D


	9. So Below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Graphic Descriptions of a Panic Attack, Claustrophobia
> 
> so... yesterday's stream huh? hahahah pain

“Here.”

Jack’s call was faint from between the trees, but Tommy caught up either way.

They stood at the mouth of a cavern within the cliff side, which was quickly dipped into darkness, the ground unseen.

“Wilbur said these areas used to be used as mining grounds,” Tommy said cautiously. “I’d be careful of, like, old mine shafts, and all that.”

“I’ve never been in a big cave like this.”

“Wait, really?”

“I always paid Phil to get me stuff.”

A pause. Tommy smirked. “Is Manifold scared?”

“No,” Jack snapped, stepping forward towards the cave.

Tommy grabbed his collar. “Hold on, there, big man. Let me go down first, see how deep it is, before you go diving in head first.”

Jack scowled, stepping back and folding his arms over his chest while Tommy moved forward.

He jumped forward, his wings sprouting out to slow the fall. He dived into darkness, for a moment fearing that the floor was lower than he thought, only to land heavily and unexpectedly. He could easily still see the entrance above him.

“Okay,” he called, his voice bounding wall to wall. “Be careful, it’s a bit of a drop, but you can make it.”

Jack’s silhouette above him hesitated. While Tommy was busy lighting a torch, Jack jumped, his shout echoing loudly along the tunnels before he crashed on the floor beside Tommy.

Right after, the cavern was barely illuminated by golden flickering light. Tommy watched Jack rise back to his feet, dusting off his clothes as he eyed the area around him. “Now what?”

“Uh...” Tommy wandered a bit forward, until his torch lit the path ahead. “This way.”

They began the trek down the tunnel, the damp coldness quickly attaching to Tommy’s skin. He could only imagine what it must’ve felt like to Jack, who was already struggling to hide his trembles with his arms around his front.

Their light did close to nothing to curb the darkness, so they moved in slow, careful silence to avoid pits to jagged spikes that might’ve tripped them.

“How’s it going, big man?” Tommy asked warily, turning his torch to look backwards.

Jack shivered. “Just peachy.”

“You can wait on the surface, if that’s—“

“No. I’ll be fine. I don’t like the thought of leaving you down here alone.”

Scowling, Tommy silently turned forward again.

A new cave opened up ahead, one with the slightest of light illuminating it’s jagged walls.

When they’d reached the end of the tunnel, Tommy felt a shiver crawl up his spine at the sight of an old wooden bridge leading into a mineshaft. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Here we go.”

Below the bridge was the source of light; a ravine filled with lava, a river of fire leading off until the ravine ended.

“Whoa,” Jack said. “They built a bridge over this.”

“Somebody did,” Tommy muttered, warily approaching the wooden bridge. “Not sure if I’d like to know where they are, now.”

They strode carefully over creaky, old wood, barely supported by logs embedded in the walls.

As they entered the next tunnel, Tommy found himself feeling much more claustrophobic. The walls were closed in more, supported by wooden posts that had withered over the years.

Upon entering an intersection, Tommy turned his gaze down the right tunnel, only to immediately bump into something that briefly made him jump until he realized what it was; just an ancient mine cart, derailed and rusted.

“If we can get down lower,” Tommy said quietly, feeling as if there was something down there that would wake up if he’d spoken too loud. “I’m sure we’d be able to find obsidian. And get you into that lava lake.”

“That sounds so fucking nice right now,” Jack replied, and Tommy couldn’t ignore the shake in his voice.

They ventured deeper and deeper. The feathers on Tommy’s back spiked.

There were points where the posts had collapsed and the ceiling had come down. Others where rails had bent out of shape and the carts were derailed.

Tommy took a glance at Jack, who was practically shrinking into himself to fend off the cold. Tommy almost suggested taking the torch, until he realized that would’ve meant exposing his arm, so he decided against it.

“Here.” Jack’s voice suddenly cut through the silence.

Tommy looked back, to see him gesturing to a stairwell. Without a word, Tommy stepped over, and they both began to descend to the next level.

The next level was another bridge, with a small gap broken off. They bounded over the hole, the wood creaking dangerously loudly beneath their boots.

Yet another stairwell sat at the other end. But this one led to a whole new cave, it’s fourth wall opened up to the wide ravine at their left. More supports were built up against the walls, and there were empty, broken chests littered along the edges of the floor.

When Tommy’s gaze landed on a lit up wall down the tunnel ahead, he picked up the pace. “Here, Jack,” he called, and turned the corner. A lava pit.

Jack stepped over, pausing at the front of the tunnel, where Tommy could feel the heat emanating off. Jack shrugged off the layers of blankets he wore, and stepped over. Snickering, he turned to face his friend. “Bye, Tommy,” he joked, then fell backwards, sinking into the lava.

Tommy’s lip curled. “Ew.”

Jack disappeared beneath the surface.

With a sigh, wiping the forming sweat off his forehead, he examined the area, torch lowered at his hip.

He stepped back out into the wide open area, where he looked into the ravine and the dim glow coming from below.   
Turning back around, he loomed over the multiple tunnels leading down into more shafts.

It was hauntingly quiet. Jack was only a few dozen feet away, and yet, the cavern created the illusion of loneliness and emptiness that crept straight into Tommy’s gut. Goosebumps rose on his skin.

Without a second thought, he moved towards the closest tunnel, sneaking down the stairs and into the next section of the shaft. This one was more well kept, the worst of the damage made up of cobwebs connecting the corners and posts.

Tommy’s torch fended off the darkness. This far from the ravine, it was pitch black, so he moved with short, slow steps.

Hollow sounds bounced off the walls from his right, scrapes and rumbles of a living cavern watching his every move. The place suddenly seemed much smaller.

He was moving away from the sounds without another thought, hoping to find the obsidian they’d originally come down there for.

He’d only noticed he’d lost track of where he’d gone when he came across the third intersection.

He paused in the center, spinning in three circles until he couldn’t even remember where he’d come from. “Fuck,” he whispered, though the word felt much too loud.

He couldn’t find the path he’d come from beyond the darkness. Every wall looked the same. He couldn’t remember how many cobwebs he’d seen. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” The walls were shrinking. He was growing dizzy.

He winged it, bounding down one hall at his right with no hope for it to be his desired one. “Jack?” he called, only for the sound to repeat back to him a hundred times, like the mines themselves were mocking him.

•••

Jack watched the flames dance along the golden scales of his fingertips. It was weak, compared to what he was used to, but it was better than nothing.

He rose to his feet, eyeing the lava for a moment.

Nostalgia jabbed at the back of his mind. He was used to the oceans of fire so vast that their shores couldn’t be seen.

He didn’t let the thought linger. Turning his back to the lava, he paced back into the room outside the tunnel. “Okay, I feel...”

His words trailed when he found he had entered an empty room.

“Tommy?” he called instinctively, only getting silence in return.

Pacing over and looking down the ravine showed nothing significant. He turned back around, lost and confused as his gaze darted between the pitch black tunnels behind him.

“Tommy!”

No answer.

He breathed shakily. His blankets under his arm, he headed into the closest tunnel, diving into darkness.

His flaming hand was the only thing to lead him. Every shaft looked the same. “Tommy!”

The call bounced down each tunnel at every side, and the place suddenly felt massive. Without coherent directions, he winged it and marched into one of the tunnels.

He could feel the fire in his hand diminishing in the face of the cold, damp underground. With an idea in mind, he eyed the walls until he came across an old, unlit torch. His glowing hand pressed on the end, and the fire spread, following him as he retrieved the wood from it’s holder and used it instead to lead him forward.

His footsteps were the loudest thing in the area. There were rumbles and crumbling coming from behind him—or, ahead? He couldn’t be sure.

“Tommy!” he continued calling, and still, he got no reply.

The only moment he stopped was when he made a sudden sharp turn, minutes after he’d started his search.

There was a dead end. Sitting in a room at the end of the hall, was a strange platform of stone, and one chunk of dark obsidian.

Jack hesitated in the center of the intersection. Torch aloft, he crept down the hall, his footsteps now silent.

The room was freezing. That brief moment of relieving warmth seemed to leave immediately as soon as he stepped foot inside, and he sighed shakily.

There was a chest beside the obsidian, tipped on it’s side, attached to the floor with dust and cobwebs. He examined the stone platform—made of bricks and clay, long left abandoned. Using his boot, he turned his attention to the chest, and kicked it upright. He was hesitant to touch it, but after tossing his blanket over his shoulders, he knelt down, and fiddled with the latch.

It was weak enough to snap off with a hard enough yank. He pushed the lid open.

Scrolls. Old, yellow paper rolled up together with red ribbon.

With trembling hands, he reached inside, and retrieved one, unrolling it in his lap.

There were no words on the scroll; only drawings. Like studies by the writer.

At the top of the page was what looked to be a human, something large and triangular against their back. An arrow at the figure’s right pointed to the other side of the page, where the ink was scribbled into the vague shape of a humanoid creature.

Enderman, Jack assumed.

The bottom of the page was that same portal frame of eyes, a little messier and uneven. There was a sphere on the left of it with slits for pupils—Ender Eyes, Jack concluded—with a second drawing of the same thing on the right of it with strange lines emanating from it.

Jack felt as if he was attempting to read gibberish. Especially since he was already stressed.

He put the paper down.

•••

Tommy couldn’t breathe. The air was too wet, and cold, and the walls were too damn small.

He only came to a stop when he could’ve sworn he was about to be crushed, and his knees were growing weak beneath him. There was no telling how far or close he was to Jack, nor how long it had been since he’d gotten himself lost. He wasn’t sure if the footsteps and whispers he was hearing was due to the fear or ghosts taunting him from beyond the grave.

His hand pressed against his chest, where his heart pounded into his palm almost painfully. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

On top of the fear, his chest hurt.

In a weird way, it reminded him of Phil. Phil was the same way, avoided caves like the plague. Tommy had found before then that it must’ve been an Avian thing, but of course he’d never tell anyone that, what would these people think seeing him afraid of a little small space? At least Phil had reason to fear it, those wings were too big to fit in a place like this.

But for him? Why should he be afraid? There was no reason to be.

And yet, he was counting the seconds before he passed the fuck out.

One hand reached for the wall. His other reached for his throat for the invisible hand choking him. His chest felt much too tight.

He didn’t remember the moment before he was sitting. But the next thing he knew, he had his knees to his chest, and his head buried between them, to avoid the sight of dark tunnels and old, rotting posts.

The cold was suffocating.

He wondered if this was worth it anymore.

•••

Jack didn’t waste time on the scrolls, instead stuffing them unceremoniously into his bag and getting back to business.

“Tommy!”

That call was repeated back to him. He hated these walls, wished he could just scramble through and get rid of the frustration that came with the confusion. He moved through the maze with his eyes darting frantically, hoping to find anything different, anything new that wasn’t another dark tunnel with old wood. “Tommy!”

He hated the way his voice bounced back to him, like the place was infinite and the walls were repeating him. If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn the breeze he felt and the hushes he heard came from the breaths of the caves. There was just something about those tunnels that made him constantly feel as if he was never, ever alone.

“Tommy!” he called again. And again, and again. He wasn’t sure how many times, nor for how long he did this.

But it did feel like forever before he finally, finally came across a small shape in the darkness.

Tommy. Shriveled up against the wall, little wings wrapping around his shoulders until they barely touched at his front, and his shoulders shuddering.

“Tommy,” Jack breathed in relief, dropping at his side. “Tommy.”

Tommy’s head popped up as he gasped. His eyes were sparkling. “Fuck, shit,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. “Fuck me.”

“Are you okay?” Jack asked, looking him over for injuries. All he found was the violent shivers racking his body. “I was calling for you, didn’t you hear me?”

“Fuck, no, I didn’t,” Tommy hissed, harshly rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Jack sighed. “Shit. I thought I wouldn’t find you.”

“I got lost, that’s all,” Tommy replied, though there was an obvious tremble in his voice that made him clearly cringe.

There was a moment for Jack where it seemed to click. “Are you, are you claustrophobic? Like Phil is? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I’m not!” Tommy snapped back. Before Jack could respond, he was getting back to his feet, his arms wrapped firmly over his front. “Let’s just go find the obsidian.”

Jack frowned, lost for words for a moment. “Tommy, I’m not gonna judge you for having a fear. There are a lot of people who—“

“Fuck off, Manifold,” Tommy replied, already pacing back into the dark. “Either catch up or I’m leaving you.”

Jack had no other choice but to follow.

•••

Ranboo only noticed how much he hated being alone after everyone was gone.

He tried to make the best of things. Tried to take care of the lagoon, his home. When the storm came by, he took up time by simply watching the rain fall.

But it wasn’t the same. Not when Phil wasn’t coming to check on him. Not when Tubbo wasn’t going to visit Tommy and Jack. Not when Wilbur and Niki weren’t conversing beneath the old tree.

He was alone. And he hated it.

The storm was what made his gears turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all got no idea how annoyed I was when I realized I had to post a tommy focused chapter after what happened yesterday lmaooooooo
> 
> anyway thanks for the comments and kudos ily <3


	10. Stain Glass Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing
> 
> LET'S GOOOOOO

Tubbo approached the edges of Alizar with a mix of wariness and excitement.

He hadn’t been to the city in a while. And he wasn’t intending to go, until this week’s mix of emotions.

He paced cautiously, weaving himself into the tight alleys, raising his hood to enter the streets. He was here for Phil, the only place he knew he’d be for sure, and he intended to stick by his side no matter what.

His assumptions were confirmed when there was a thump from the alley behind him, and a hand clasped him over his mouth before he could react.

There was a moment of struggle until he looked up, and got a glimpse of Phil scowling down at him.

Phil lightly pushed him towards the wall of the alley across from him. “What are you doing?”

“Was looking for you,” Tubbo replied, lowering his hood.

“I told you to—“

“I’m not going anywhere, Phil. I told you what I wanted, I want to find Tommy, and find answers. And if you’re heading that direction, I’m gonna follow you.”

Phil warily eyed the alleyway around them, searching for unwelcome eyes. “It’s not safe here.”

“If it’s not safe for me, then it’s not safe for you.”

Phil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tubbo, I came out here to get the lot of them back to the lagoon, not to make you wander out here alone.”

“Well, we’re really far away. I won’t be alone if I’m with you.”

“I can’t fly if I have to keep an eye on you.”

Tubbo’s face pinched into a pout. “You can fly just fine! You don’t have to hover by me, we can just make sure we meet up somewhere, or something.”

“Tubbo—“

“I can even help you, if you need it. You came here looking for Wilbur? I can help with that. I’m the more inconspicuous Hybrid between us, anyway.”

That seemed to make Phil pause. He took a moment to think, once again glancing up and down the alley.

Chatter and bustles whispered down to them from the maw of the alley.

Phil sighed. “I’m not sure.”

“Please? I’ll help you in any way I can.”

Another long bout of silence where Phil was simply staring while scratching his chin. After one more glance, he stepped forward.

“I need you to find the church,” Phil said, keeping his voice low. “I told Wilbur to always look for the priest if he needs help. If he’s clever, he’ll have come for the Blaze Powder he told me about. Alizar is sure to have some handy.”

“So, look for the priest, ask him about Wilbur?” Tubbo clarified.

Phil nodded. “I’m going to scout out the streets from above. You can read clocks, can’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Phil gestured him forward, and pointed to the nearest clock tower. “Fifteen past one. We meet right back here, with or without Wilbur.”

“Got it.” Tubbo turned to leave.

But Phil’s hand on his wrist stopped him. He turned back around, as Phil rose one hand to slick back his antennae, then used the other to pick his hood up over them.

Tubbo smirked. “Thanks.”

Phil stared silently for a moment, unsure in his next sentence, it seemed. “Be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Tubbo gave a silent nod, pinching the edge of the hood to keep it up as he turned and entered the streets.

This late into the night, the crowds were shallow. He was able to move quickly and unbothered through the path, where shops were left closed and windows were shut for the night. Lights from the buildings were shut off, leaving the streets in a hazy dim glow coming from street lanterns.

Tubbo spotted the steeple from far away, where it jutted into the sky with a faint golden glow spotting it from below. He cut through an alley into the next street over, where the church sat tucked into a courtyard, the most significant building of the bunch.

Tubbo’s heart lurched in his chest. Over the door was a tall stained glass window, depicting a woman in white with dark hair peering over the world below her.

Tubbo had never learned religion, he never had any reason to, and he had no one to teach him. From what he knew, Phil was the closest he had to someone who worshipped, but he had no idea what.

It was his last thought as he cautiously approached the large wooden double door, and pressed all his weight into it to get it open.

It’s low moan echoed into the room. He looked forward to immediately see the altar, sitting in front of the stone statue of the same woman he’d seen on the stain glass outside. More stain glass windows riddled the walls at either of his sides, and the church pews were empty, everything dimly lit by a wooden chandelier above his head.

Tubbo walked with easy footsteps. It felt rude to make noise in a place like this, despite it being seemingly empty.

His hands folded beneath his cloak, as he paced along the royal purple carpet up towards the altar.

The statue at the end was dark and foreboding in the night. He looked over the empty altar, finding himself unsure of what he was meant to do next.

“Evening.”

Tubbo squealed at the sudden voice and spun around, searching for the source.

The man’s laugh was hardy and deep. Tubbo finally found him hovering near the right side of the room, silhouetted by the shadow cast by the large doorway he stood inside. “Didn’t think I was that scary.”

Tubbo cleared his throat, and stood a bit straighter. “Uh— sorry. I, uh, kinda just came in.”

“Don’t worry about it, don’t worry about it,” the man replied, and stepped forward, though the light didn’t do much to show his features when they were already darkly colored. “The place is always open.”

Tubbo’s attempt to smile fell short of a grimace as the man continued to approach. “Okay. Um, I’m Tubbo.”

The man finally grew close enough where the red and purples of his dark robes could be seen, and so could his crooked smile and sharp eyes partially shadowed by scruffy, dark hair, with little dark lines beneath and above his eyes. “Schlatt.”

Tubbo blinked. “Aren’t priests usually called ‘Father—‘“

“Don’t call me father.”

•••

“We really need to plan ahead more,” Tommy muttered.

They’d found obsidian, and stripped it from the floor, only to find they had no good way of carrying it.

“At least we don’t have to take it far,” Jack sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “There’s a frame down one of the tunnels we can use as a base. Better for it to be underground, anyway.”

Tommy nodded, and put his pick at the side of his backpack, before reaching down and hauling one of the pieces under his arm. Jack was hesitant, but did the same.

They repeated this process until they’d finished the frame, putting it together like puzzle pieces with what they could. It was uneven, and ugly, but at least it was finished.

Tommy breathed deep. “Oh, boy.”

“Tommy.”

Tommy looked over at Jack, who was staring straight into his gaze as he asked, “Are you sure about this?”

Tommy grimaced. “Positive. It’s our best bet. And besides, maybe we can, like, reset your timer, or something.”

A pause. “Tommy.”

“What?”

“Before we go in, I... I found these.” Jack reached into his satchel, and pulled out two scrolls, one already unraveled. “I think they might’ve been Wilbur’s.”

Tommy hesitated at that, eyeing the paper Jack held out. He took the unraveled one, looking over the frantic scrawls and barely coherent drawings covering the yellowed paper. He grumbled a little. “Makes sense, the guy was fucking nuts.” He handed the paper back. “We can worry about reading those when we get back.”

Even Jack seemed hesitant. Maybe he was afraid of changing his mind, Tommy thought. Or maybe he was just continuing to worry, because of course. He turned his gaze away, retrieving the flint and steel from his bag and kneeling at the foot of the portal frame.

“You can talk to me about that, y’know,” Jack called. “Wilbur, the caves. We can—“

He was interrupted by the loud clang coming from the activation of the portal. Bright purple light flashed in both their eyes as a gust of air blasted through them and down the tunnel, where Tommy swore he’d heard the posts moaning and stone crumbling, like the cavern itself was unhappy with this revelation.

A sort of heat emanated from the physical light cast in front of them. Tommy rose to his feet and pocketed the flint and steel, sharing an unsure look with his friend, who hadn’t said anything else on the previous subject.

It took a moment for them to file themselves up. Tommy bounced on his heels, shaking the nerves out through his hands. “Fuck it.”

He reached his hand forward. It disappeared beneath the purple surface as if it were water, and with a careful breath, he stepped into the frame, through the light.

•••

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be talking to me if you were only here to pray,” Schlatt said, stepping up to the altar and leaning against it’s side. “Can I ask why you’re here?”

Tubbo hesitated, eyeing the room around him, unsure and wary. “Uh, actually, I was wondering if you’d seen somebody.”

Schlatt arched a brow. He seemed to straighten a bit, and Tubbo quickly made a mental note of it. “Like who?” the man asked.

“Uh, he’s kinda tall. He wears a cloak and a yellow sweater. Curly hair.”

A pause. Schlatt stood straight, his gaze wandering as he thought. “He may have come by. You see, a lot of people come by here every day. As hard as I try, it’s difficult to keep track.”

“That’s okay,” Tubbo squeaked. “I just needed to know if he was here, or-or if you know where he might’ve gone.”

“Where he might’ve gone, I’ve got no idea. What, is he your big brother?”

“I—No, not really. More like a friend who’s an idiot.”

Schlatt snickered, his head leaning back with the laugh. “You’re funny. I like you. If I can’t be of any more help, could I offer you something? Need any food, potions, anything like that?”

Tubbo was about to answer, when a second thought came to mind. For one thing, he wouldn’t mind the extra supplies, especially on a taxing trip like this. For another, he could make sure the man wasn’t lying; there was a part of him that told him, despite the demeanor, he was no stranger to stretching the truth. Tubbo knew he could hold his own if anything went wrong, and if Phil was there... he wouldn’t wanna be this guy if it came down to that.

“Uh, got any extra healing potions lying around?”

Schlatt seemed to think for a moment. Then, he smirked. “We keep our supplies downstairs. You can join me while I look, if you want.”

Schlatt was moving to the door before he got an answer. Without a second thought, Tubbo went to follow to avoid the awkwardness of standing in the room behind him alone for who knew how long. Maybe it was better to keep an eye on him, anyway.

The door led to a hall, where another door sat close by and opened up to a stairwell.

Schlatt led him down the spiraling staircase, where Tubbo automatically checked to see if his hood was still up.

The room below was brighter in comparison, though only because it was smaller, more cramped. Brewing stations were set up at almost every wall, save for the one where crates and chests were kept for supplies.

There were little windows over the brewing stations that looked out to the street at ground level. Little painted statues of the woman with dark hair were planted on the windowsills, some with candles lit beside them.

“Healing potions are in demand, shockingly,” Schlatt called, the small room seeming to blast his voice loudly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we were out. Is it an emergency?”

“No,” Tubbo replied, anxiously looking over his surroundings. The stairwell was his only exit. “Just have a long trip ahead. Wanted to make sure I was ready for anything.”

“Long trip, huh?” Schlatt called, words backed by the clinking of glass bottles and rustle of fabric sacks. “For someone as young as you?”

“I have a friend with me.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Looking for this other friend in the yellow sweater, huh?”

“This was kind of a side goal. I don’t believe he’s in any danger.”

“Mm.” The sound of water pouring into a bottle filled the room. Then, Schlatt moved two bottles into one of the stations, and applied the ingredients while the boiled.

During that time, he turned to face Tubbo, leaning back against the table’s edge. “You might wanna act carefully up there during late hours like this. Not too many friendly faces.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tubbo replied, leaning backwards against a wooden post connected to the ceiling. “I’ve been here before.”

“Really? You’ve got some miles under your belt, then. Impressive for somebody as young as you.”

Tubbo gulped, his eyes constantly on the brewing stand behind him. “Uh, yeah. Do, do you ever travel?”

“Mm, no,” Schlatt replied, gaze wandering. “Never got the chance. I never thought of being a ‘traveling priest,’ y’know?”

“Why don’t you try it?”

“Someday, maybe. Someday. There’s a place I’ve always wanted to go, at least.”

“Where’s that?”

“Far, far away. You’ve probably never even heard of it. Or maybe you have, you being...” He snickered. “So traversal.”

Tubbo breathed slow. The potions were still boiling. “Right.”

A pause. “So, your friend,” Schlatt said. “What’d he do? Run away?”

Tubbo shrugged, voice tight as he said, “Sort of. We’re kind of headed in the same direction, we just got... separated a while ago, I guess. Maybe.”

“I see, I see. Same destination, then?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Tubbo flinched a little when Schlatt stood straight, and paced over to the nearby crates, abandoning the boiling potions behind him. Tubbo watched with a sort of desperation, praying to a god he didn’t know for it to finish fast.

“Your friend must be pretty important to you, then,” Schlatt called over the rustling caused by whatever he was doing in the crate. “If you came all this way looking for him.”

“It, it really wasn’t far,” Tubbo replied shakily, eyes darting back and forth between the station and Schlatt. “We’ve only been traveling for a short while.”

“I see, I see. Must be hard, searching for him, him being a ghost, and all.”

And in that moment, Tubbo could’ve sworn he’d felt his heart stop for the briefest of moments. “I... I never mentioned he was a ghost.

Silence.

Tubbo stood straight, backing towards the stairs behind him.

Schlatt stood straight, something large in his hands that were still inside the crate.

“What’d you do to Wilbur?” Tubbo asked, his attempt at sternness falling short when his voice shook. “Where is he?”

“Not dead, if that’s what you’re asking,” Schlatt said, followed by a low snicker that brought his crooked grin back. “I mean, you can’t kill somebody twice.”

“Where is—“

Tubbo fell silent when Schlatt lifted his hands, and he was face to face with the bad end of a crossbow.

“Should’ve seen my face in that moment,” Schlatt said, creeping forward, slowly and smoothly as Tubbo slowly rose his hands into view. “I took this whole job spiel just for the money. I haven’t even been here that long. Imagine my surprise when my church front lured in a dead guy that knows about the End.” He snorted. “The End! I have never, ever heard another person mention the End, dead or living. For a while, I just thought I was crazy.”

“That’s debatable,” Tubbo muttered. His remark went unnoticed.

“And then you come along, saying you’ve got the same goal? Ain’t that just a show.” He rose the crossbow higher, the bolt glinting at the light, and Tubbo’s breaths turned short. “Really, I don’t need you. I’ve got the other one. But I’m willing to let you go if you give me a bit of info.”

Tubbo gulped. His hands trembled where they hovered beside him.

“Who’re you working for?”

That was where Tubbo fell short. “Wait, what?”

“Two people from the same place looking for the End? That’s some cult bullshit. You’ve gotta be working for someone.”

“We’re not,” Tubbo replied, voice high and shaky. “We—We only happened to find out about it.”

“Right, right. Like you just happened to find me after you couldn’t find the dead guy.”

“Uh, yeah, kinda.”

“Like I said, I don’t need you, but I’m willing to trade.”

“There’s nothing to trade, I’ve got nothing to tell you. I just wanted to find my friend.”

Silence. Schlatt’s gaze darkened, and his grip on the crossbow became frighteningly tight. “Okay.”

The crossbow shot.

Tubbo’s arms flew up to shield his face.

There was no pain. No feeling of impact, nothing. Scowling, he slowly lowered his arms, and looked down to see the bolt had lodged itself in the armor he naturally grew over his skin, hidden only by his sleeve.

Eyes wide, he looked up at Schlatt, who seemed just as shocked.

Tubbo coughed, reaching to his arm and yanking the bolt out, no pain whatsoever being caused. “Ow?”

A pause. The room was silent.

Then, just as quick, Schlatt was laughing. Loudly, almost cackling, and his crossbow hung from his hand at his side.

“Oh, fuck,” he finally muttered when the laughter died down. “This is gonna be fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> schlatt whenever he joins a character based server: I am going to create an aesthetic that is so villain,


	11. Concrete Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Body horror relating to eyes and mutations, Descriptions of spider-esque things(?), Mentions of rotting bodies, A little bit of burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh i just figured out I could put notes at the beginning and at the end,,, 
> 
> anyway. this chapter's BUSSYYYY, I got stuck for a few days because busy chapters like this are my weakness but I'm catching up again so as far as I know daily chapters won't be slowing down lmaoooo enjoy!! <3  
> ALSO PLEASE MIND THE WARNINGS, this one's a lil bit rough!

Tommy was welcomed down below with a blast of heat and dryness that burned his throat.

As his vision slowly filtered back in through the light, he opened his eyes and stepped forward on to a crunchy ground that made him cringe.

He was always surprised when he entered the Nether and found how silent it was. Whenever Wilbur or Phil had told stories, he always thought of the place as loud and invasive. But when he entered then, it was silent, besides his shaky breathing and the crunch under his feet.

Tommy examined the area around him. The roof of the Nether was hidden by darkness, with the exception of dots of light coming from pouring lava. There were breezes coming from nowhere, hot and blistering, and the smell of sulfur constantly filled his senses.

Jack was slow on entering, but when he arrived, he was frozen. Him and Tommy shared a silent, uneasy glance.

Taking careful steps forward, Tommy peered over the edge of the cliff. There was another piece of land below him, shores to a huge lava lake that disappeared behind a hazy red fog.

“I was thinking,” Jack called, joining his side. “That I might miss the lava lakes, because they were my favorite parts of this place. I definitely didn’t.”

“How do you feel?” Tommy asked breathlessly, wiping his forehead of sweat.

Jack was silent for a moment, like he didn’t want to answer. “Better. I guess.”

“You know where we can get Blaze Powder, while you go deal with the locals?” Tommy asked, voice dry and raspy.

Jack took a moment to assess him, before turning and examining the landscape. “I’m not positive, but I think there should be a big building behind that big mountain over there.” He pointed to the chunk of red that the stone they stood on bridged over to. “It’s a long walk.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tommy replied, once again wiping his sleeve along his forehead. “I’m gonna kick their asses.”

Jack seemed to tense a little, scowling as he examined the nearby area. “Uh, okay. Try to stay behind them, you’ll stay out of their fire easier. And stay away from cliffs, they’ll shove you off.”

“Okay, mum, I got it,” Tommy sneered, a brief smirk flashing on his face. 

“No, listen. They activate when someone comes by, you can’t even see them until it’s too late.”

Scowling, Tommy peered up at him. “You sound worried about me.”

“Fuck you, maybe I am. I know how dangerous it is around here and I know how reckless you are.”

“Hey!”

“I’m not lying, am I? When was the last time you were here? With Wilbur? You won’t have me or anyone to help you if things go down, you need to be really careful.”

Tommy pouted, propping his hands on his hips. “Fuck sake. I’ll be fine.”

“You better be. I don’t want to have to defend you against them. Fire doesn’t go well with fire.”

“But swords go well with skulls.” Tommy began pacing away, wings fluttering a little at his back while he once again wiped sweat from his forehead. “See you on the other side, big man.”

•••

“What kills you, then?”

Schlatt’s voice had turned unwavering, louder, and the volume was carried even further due to the size of the room.

Tubbo was overwhelmed. He could run out right then, but what about Wilbur? He could run and wait for Phil, but did they even have the time? And if he made a move, he was sure Schlatt would find some way to kill him—shot through the head, asphyxiation. There were parts of him that weren’t protected by his armor, and if he got caught, they’d be easily exploited.

He was torn. And so, when his mind couldn’t settle on a decision, he was frozen.

“What even are you?” Schlatt went on, stepping forward. “Do you just not feel pain? Though, you’re not bleeding. There’s something more, then.”

Tubbo’s eyes grazed over every inch of the room for something to help him.

Behind all the crates and tables, was a door, unseen earlier when he was busy glaring at Schlatt. He tried to calculate quickly—if the door was locked, he’d grab the working brewer and slam boiling water over his head. Which would heal him immediately after...better as a distraction than a valid defense. It was his only option, he concluded, if he wanted to help Wilbur.

He moved. The crossbow rose for a split second until Tubbo got close enough to shove it and Schlatt out of his way. His bounding footsteps were deafening in the small room.

He reached for the handle, only to fall short when he saw the lock hanging from the handle. “Shit—“

A bolt glinted in the corner of his eye. He moved just in time for it to whizz past, leaving behind a shallow graze on the back of his neck. That was a murder shot, he thought quickly. 

Schlatt reached to the nearby table, hand scrambling through brewing stands for something Tubbo couldn’t see from where he stood. He gave Schlatt no chance, though, his hand snapping to the boiling bottles and taking the post.

He swung it around, and the stand with the bottles still attached crashed into him. 

One bottle shattered on impact, the other rolling to his boot.

Tubbo was startled by the yell Schlatt let out, his feet scrambling backwards until he ran into the post behind him. The confusion made him freeze for the briefest of moments, and in that second he noticed the way the liquid that had spilled on him was... burning.

Tubbo snapped around. Using the armor of the back of his hand, he slammed his fist into the loop of the lock twice, the strength and impact strong enough for it to crack. He yanked it the rest of the way, and had a split second to get through the door before he felt Schlatt’s hand graze his sleeve, right before yelling, “Fuck!”

The door slammed shut behind him. 

He stepped into a hallway. Before Schlatt could pursue, he sprinted down, halfway through already by the time he heard the door whine open behind him. There was a click, and he looked over his shoulder just in time to see Schlatt aiming his way and pulling the trigger.

Tubbo’s arm shot up to block the bolt from where i aimed for his head. He didn’t linger before stopping at the next door, flipping the switch lock, and bursting through, slamming it behind him.

His breaths turned shallow as he turned to face the inside of the room, gaze snapping in every direction before he came across an old dusty chair at the side of the room, which he dragged over and locked the door with. There was barely a moment in between then and when Schlatt tried the knob, making him flinch.

Tubbo scrambled back, and spun around to face the inside of the room. It seemed to be an old storage room, though whoever should’ve been taking care of the place wasn’t doing a good job, as most of the crates and objects left there were caked in dust barely illuminated by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling.

Catching his breath, he looked for another door, praying that he didn’t just lock himself into a dead end. “Holy shit,” he muttered, glancing at the healing potion resting in his hand. He quickly stored it in his sack and began to venture deeper into the room. 

Everything stored consisted of different fabrics, more potion ingredients, different totems of the goddess representing the church. 

He examined the walls. No doors. “Damn it.” He turned his attention to the crates, going through the contents in hope of anything that could’ve helped. The boxes of potions lacked any more healing. There were some he didn’t recognize, some empty bottles.

He moved to look over the ingredients. 

Through the scraps and different ingredients, was a sparkling golden dust.

Tubbo’s eyes widened. 

“Tubbo?”

A sharp squeal exploded in the room as Tubbo spun around, to see the hazy shape of Wilbur standing behind him.  
“Wilbur!” Tubbo exclaimed, glancing at the door on the other side of the room warily. “What– Why are you here? Why haven’t you left?”

Wilbur hesitated, mouth hanging open. A loud clang on the door startled him, his head turning in that direction, but not looking. “Why are you here?” Wilbur argued. “You were supposed to stay at the lagoon.”

“Can we have this argument later? We should be trying to figure out how to get away from the murderous priest first. Why haven’t you left, you can just phase through walls.”

Wilbur hesitated, another clang making him spin around and listen to the door. “I, uh–he hit me with some–some potion. I can’t see.”

There was a pause. Tubbo blinked, glancing at the door once more, frantic and shaky as he turned his attention back to Wilbur. “You’re, you’re blind–You can’t go through the walls–”

“How am I supposed to get out of here if I can’t see where I’m going?! I-I could get confused and think I’m in a room only to suffocate in a wall.”

Tubbo tripped over his words for a moment. “How did he–?”

“It’s not too hard to realize I’m dead as shit, Tubbo. The guy’s a mage, or something, of course he knows how to keep me... at bay, temporarily, or something.”

Another bang on the door. Tubbo flinched. He spun around, and extended his hands towards the jars of golden powder at the bottom of the crate behind him. He struggled to store them in his satchel as they hovered in front of his hands. When he managed, he turned back and gripped Wilbur’s sleeve. “There’s only one door. We’re gonna have to deal with him. Or we can try to hold out until Phil comes.”

“Phil? Phil’s here?”

“He came looking for you. I followed him.”

Though Wilbur couldn’t see, Tubbo felt him glaring daggers into him either way.

“We need Phil,” Tubbo insisted. “He’ll know how to fix this.”

“It’s just a potion, it’s temporary.”

Another slam on the door. The chair might’ve been able to hold, but it was useless when it was blocking their only exit.

“What do we do?” Tubbo exclaimed. “He’s at our only exit. We need Phil.”

Wilbur paused. Despite his attempt at a cool demeanor, Tubbo could feel him tense under his hold on his sleeve. Wilbur’s tone softened. “Stand on the side of the door. Get your sword, be ready for him, I’ll hold on to you.”

Tubbo didn’t reply, watching the door with almost unblinking eyes as he guided Wilbur to the wall beside the door.

When he thought the slamming had stopped, it would only pick up again. Tubbo hauled his sword from his hip, raising it up with a shaky grip. Wilbur’s hand held his sleeve tightly.

Tubbo riled himself up with shaky breaths and mixed thoughts. If he had any advantage, it was the fact that the man didn’t seem to have all that much combat knowledge. A crossbow seemed to be the best card Schlatt had on the table at the minute, and Tubbo told himself he had the best defense against that.

It was all he had that comforted him in the smallest of ways.

He kicked the chair out from where it blocked the door.

The next bang, Schlatt fell through, briefly off balance from the unexpected opening. Tubbo screamed at him as he rose his sword, the noise making the man start and spin around just in time to move away. The sword only snagged his robe.

When Tubbo went for another swing, Schlatt’s crossbow shot up to meet it, the blade catching in splintered wood. Tubbo yanked to pull it out, and in that brief moment, caught a glimpse of Schlatt’s smirk before he willingly let his weapon go.

The new weight sent Tubbo stumbling. He hauled the sword up, despite the weapon attached, and Schlatt caught the handle before it could crash on his head.

With Tubbo briefly at bay, Schlatt kicked forward, hard enough for his balance to waver and his grip to slip. Schlatt yanked the sword from his crossbow, dropped that, then rose the blade above his head.

Tubbo rose his arms just in time for the blade to hit his armor through his sleeves, leaving holes and stray thread. Schlatt huffed, and rose the sword again, swinging sideways instead. A horrid scrape noise rung out in the room.

Tubbo scrambled backwards before getting to his feet. He barely missed another swing before sprinting past, grabbing Wilbur on the way as the two of them sprinted down the hall.

Tubbo reached for the door.

Locked.

“Shit! Wilbur, give me your sword!”

Wilbur paused only briefly, before reaching to his hip and unsheathing his sword. Tubbo caught it from his hand, then shoved Wilbur towards the door. “Phase through this door!”

“What—?!” Wilbur’s voice was lost as soon as Tubbo shoved him through.

He turned back around just in time to see Schlatt attempt to pull the trigger on his crossbow, only for the damage done to it to lock up the bolt. “Fuck,” he hissed to himself, the sound loud enough to bounce down the hall towards Tubbo’s ears.

Tubbo rose Wilbur’s sword, while his own glinted dangerously in Schlatt’s hand.

The man stalked through the hallway, tossing and abandoning the crossbow to the side. “Fuck, kid,” he said. “You put up a good fight.”

Tubbo’s antennae buzzed. Despite his attempt at a brave demeanor, he could feel the way his breath became shuddering and his heart pounded quickly in his chest.

Schlatt stepped closer, the blade dangling from his hand at his side. “Pretty much the only kid I know that lasted this long.”

Tubbo scowled. “You’ve done this to other kids?”

Schlatt paused, then shrugged. “More or less.”

“What the fuck.”

“No fucking swearing in the house of Gods.” He rose the sword.

It crashed against Tubbo’s. Tubbo admitted, he might’ve had the defense, but this man was taller than him. He considered himself lucky that his combat skills left a lot to be desired, and even then, he was dangerous enough.

Tubbo ducked under a swing. His balance wavered, and he bumped into the brick wall before going for another attack with his sword above his head. Schlatt shifted sideways out of the way, and before Tubbo could recover, a boot shoved him in the back and he crashed on the hallway floor.

He rolled over. But not quick enough before the sword made an attempt on his chest.

The armor chipped, the tip of the sword lodged slightly. That was the only time he felt something—a burning, like he really had been cut. Doubt flashed in his head.

Schlatt rose the sword again, teeth gritting. Tubbo blocked the blow with his own blade, then scrambled out from another and got back to his feet.

Schlatt swung again. An opening. Tubbo took advantage and slashed along his side.

The strike drew a swear from the man. Tubbo moved for another strike, and Schlatt’s bounded off, though weakly. Another harsh swing had the sword flying from Schlatt’s hand and clanging along the concrete floor.

The point of Tubbo’s sword aimed to Schlatt’s neck, and the hall fell into silence.

Tubbo breathed, heavily and shakily, as he looked into the eyes of the man looming above him, still scowling and stiff and angry even when he was an odd breath away from death.

But Tubbo found no point. Not when there were other ways to deal with him, other people who knew what to do. Like Phil.

With the sword still aimed true, Tubbo slid across the hall and grabbed the other sword, then shifted back towards the door.

After a moment, the silent hall was filled with Schlatt’s snickers, which fell into full, heavy laughter. “C’mon, kill me, I dare you.”

Tubbo didn’t respond, turning to the door with one sword dangling from his hand while the other fiddled with the door handle. While occasionally glancing at Schlatt, he tried to search his pockets for something to help him pick it. “Wilbur?” he called through the door. “Can you find the door? I’m ok—“

Something slammed into the door beside him, and he startled.

Then something else on his other side. Something—a peg of some sort? Dark in color, pointed sharp at the end—

Was that some sort of leg?

Tubbo spun around, his heart lurching in his chest.

And there was Schlatt. A completely different... no, he couldn’t call him a man, not in the same light.

The two lines beneath and over his eyes cracked open to reveal bright red orbs on the other side, six eyes staring him down with a sharp gaze that locked him in place. The... legs that pinned him to the door, dark in color and grotesque in curling, sharp shapes, had torn through his robes from where they protruded on his back, one set lifting him off his feet to where he hovered over Tubbo unnaturally.

He’s a Hybrid too.  
Shit.

“You,” Schlatt hissed, his words now spoken with two voices in one, “Are getting on my nerves.”

•••

On the other side of a red, misty mountain, was a bright blue forest, silent and unmoving. Where Tommy expected crude creatures he’d never seen, the place was empty. Hauntingly so.

The air smelled of... something. Best he could describe it was smoke mixed with the strongest smell of flowers, and he couldn’t really decide if he liked the scent or not.

This place was the only time where he felt truly safe to release his hand from his sword’s hilt, simply because the place felt so lifeless. Where blue vines swayed beside him and odd, similarly colored, squishy leaves hung over his head, there was no hint of living entities besides himself. No bugs, no birds, no monsters. Empty.

It was haunting. He wasn’t sure if he preferred the Wastes or not.

Leaning on Jack’s word, he crept through the forest in search of anything that could’ve pointed him in the right direction. Blue grass crunched under his feet.

He wiped sweat from his forehead. Have heat never stifled. He was constantly heaving shallow breaths that filled his lungs with smoke and whatever the hell was floating around in this place. He thought of Phil speaking of pores in the Nether. He idly hoped they didn’t give any long lasting damage.

As he reached the other end, he was stopped dead in his tracks when he’d came across a cliff side—with what looked to be a hallway dug through it.

Red bricks were just rubble at his feet from where the floor gave way.

Tommy’s breath shuddered. This was it, had to be.

His talons on one foot clasped the edge of the floor, lifting him up easily so he could climb into the empty, long abandoned hall.

Tommy crept through. His hand returned to his sword. When he thought for a moment longer, he removed it from it’s scabbard, just to feel safer.

Something moved at the end of the hall.

Tommy’s sword rose. Only for him to stop when he realized it was just one of the pig guy people, whatever they were called.

They were... gross, but Tommy didn’t say it to his face. Only portrayed it by the way he stepped around as far as he could get from the rotting walking corpse that snorted at him from behind.

There was no sound within the halls. But contrasting the area behind him, he felt as if there were a million eyes on his back. His feathers spiked against his back.

The silence was suddenly cut off when he came across an intersection; there was a sort of metallic clang that echoed down the halls, and the sound of wheezing, harsh breathing lingering on the back of his neck.

Tommy spun around. There was... a skull. A floating skull in the center of the hallway.

Of which caught flames only a moment later, and Tommy found he was not at all surprised in the slightest, considering his luck.

Sparks collected to create the rods he was here for, spinning around the emanating smoke and fire quickly. They seemed to be stationed guards, Tommy thought, activated only by intruders. He didn’t think about what could’ve been threatening enough down there to warrant something like this.

“Fuck,” he hissed, suddenly finding himself lost on what to do.

His first reaction was to put all his strength into slicing at the rods, though that only caused a strange noise to ring out and sparks to fly.

The monster seemed to explode outwards, fire blasting in streaks right where Tommy scrambled away from only moments before. The flames caught the walls, the ceiling, before shrinking back down to the monster itself.

Tommy could feel the heat sink into his skin. The smoke was filling the room, too, and he wondered if he’d die burning or choking.

He rose his sword above his head in that brief moment of time where the creature did nothing. The blade caught briefly in the hovering skull.

Heat and a small burst of flames exploded towards him, and he staggered back briefly, coughing with a burning throat. He went for another swing.

A crack was made on the skull, where sparks flew out and fire burst towards the ceiling. Tommy yanked his sword free, and went for a stab through the forehead.

Another explosion of flames pushed him back. A particularly harsh burn swept across his arm, and Tommy swore as he patted out the fire caught on his sleeve. The creature wheezed it’s response, unheard and incoherent to Tommy’s ears.

The skull and smoke hovered, floating fire flowing up walls almost like water would. Gods. Water.

Tommy screamed, and stabbed forward.

An ugly crack sounded out as Tommy jabbed the blade through the center of the skull, where sparks once again popped out and died on the brick at his feet.

The fire turned to hovering smoke that floated and diminished against the ceiling. There was a long pause, before whatever force that kept the rods floating diminished, them and free pieces of the skull crashing to the floor.

Tommy breathed harshly, which turned into dry coughs he expelled into his arm. “Fuck,” he croaked, putting his sword away briefly to kneel down and examine what was left behind.

The skull was dark, almost black. Tommy had to wonder what poor soul had to commit to a life like this after death, if that was even what happened. He turned his attention to the glowing rods, reaching out to pick one up, only for it to sting his fingers with heat. “Ow, shit.” He pulled his sleeve over his hand. It didn’t do much, but it let him collect them and stuff them in his bag, where their glow was snuffed out as he closed it.

He sighed, wiping sweat away. One down. Maybe... three to go. Two, if he was lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first time I figure out I can use notes at the top and bottom idk what to put here. anyway hi guys!!!


	12. Enemy of the Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Body horror relating to eyes and mutations, very very brief mention of death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly late but that's okay. anyway yesterday's lore huh? we vibin. thanks for comments and kudos :D

Tubbo admitted he wasn’t the bravest of souls. There were times where he’d depended on others in moments where he could’ve handled himself, if not for the fear that had a hold of him. He’d tried to grow, and he was proud of himself for what he’d accomplished.

Though, he wasn’t sure if that would stick this time.

Schlatt’s eyes were enough to have him trembling, six dots of red he could’ve sworn could see into his soul. He felt tiny, compared to the freak that hovered above him.

One of the sharp legs craned back, aiming for his neck.

Tubbo yelped as he ducked, his movements uncoordinated and scrambling when the only thought he had in his head was get away.  
Schlatt spun around, glaring gaze locked on Tubbo while he stumbled back with his sword up, though his little frame was trembling in every inch.

Schlatt snorted and laughed, the sound reverberating against the walls as the legs holding him multiple feet into the air shifted and curled and scraped along stone brick. Tubbo felt cold. “Goddamn,” Schlatt sneered, the second voice against his own making Tubbo’s blood run cold. “I should’ve tried this earlier. I don’t really tend to get ol’ reliable out often.”

“What the fuck,” was Tubbo’s only response.

The door creaked behind Schlatt, and Tubbo got a brief glimpse of a clueless Wilbur.

Tubbo sprinted without a second thought, shoving away one of the spider legs as he bounded through the door and slammed it behind him.

“What happened?” Wilbur asked.

Flustered, Tubbo grabbed his hand. “We need to get the fuck out of here!”

The door slammed open, and Schlatt crept through on all six of the legs that then lifted him into the air once more.

Tubbo didn’t stick around, guiding a still blind Wilbur towards the spiral staircase. The two of them skipped steps as they ran.

Tubbo regretted looking down when wood creaked, getting a look at the horrific sight of Schlatt climbing up through the middle of the stairwell using the spider legs on the railing. “Fuck sake, just stop running, this took way more effort than it should’ve!”

Tubbo crashed through the door at the top, and sprinted into the cathedral with Wilbur in tow.

The door was right there.

“Do I even want to know what we’re running from?” Wilbur heaved, his breath doubly as wheezy from the running.

Tubbo didn’t reply, his only goal being the door a few feet ahead.

The door that was suddenly blocked by Schlatt as he jumped forward and extended a hand.

Tubbo squealed and scrambled back, briefly running into Wilbur before heading the opposite direction.

Schlatt was ridiculously fast on those legs, and Tubbo could barely keep up when his mind was already reeling. The adrenaline had his heart pounding in his ears, and his hand could barely keep hold on his sword anymore. He was in full flight, no fight left within him.

Schlatt bounded toward him. Tubbo shoved himself and Wilbur into the gap between the nearby pews, both of them shoving back towards the opposite armrest where they barely missed one of the sharp legs stabbing and splintering the wood in front of them.

“Give me a sword,” Wilbur breathed.

“You can’t see!”

“I’ll manage! Just give me one!”

Tubbo’s faith wasn’t picked up in the slightest when Wilbur’s hand briefly wavered before finding the hilt of the sword.

A leg pierced the ground beside him, and Tubbo pushed Wilbur away, his feet scrambling on the brick floor.

But Wilbur was up in a flash of a moment, slicing sideways, dragging a cut along the long, dangly limb.

Schlatt’s shout was inhuman.

Tubbo gripped Wilbur’s sleeve and guided him along the church pews.

Schlatt could catch up easily. He was down on his regular feet in moments, using the spider legs to grip Wilbur’s shoulder and shove him aside. In seconds, Schlatt’s attention was back on Tubbo, and it seemed his grudge now was simply out of annoyance than necessity.

Tubbo swung upwards, aimlessly and frantically with his sword, catching a cut on one of the legs, but not enough to stop him. Schlatt reached forward with his hands while one leg snapped and lodged behind Tubbo, catching him in his tracks. Another swing from another leg threw him off his feet with the strong impact, and his sword went clattering. He scrambled for it, but Schlatt easily beat him, climbing over him and grabbing the sword by it’s hilt.

Schlatt rose the sword above his head, and swung. Tubbo yelped as he barely got out of the way, but he could feel the sting of a new cut on his temple.

Another swing, this time scraping a breath of a slice along the armor at his chest. Schlatt bounded forward at a speed Tubbo could barely register, and thus, he could barely defend himself.

“Tubbo?!” Wilbur cried, from where he was stuck between too pews, unsure where to go.

But Tubbo had a wall behind him, and six spider legs around him, caging him. He rose his arms, feeling a dozen scrapes along the armor, harsher and harsher, more desperate as Schlatt grew angrier.

The spider legs shot forward, swiping away and pinning his hands at his side with a speed and strength Tubbo couldn’t dream of keeping up with.

The sword glinted as it rose straight above his head. Aimed at his throat, a killing blow for the sake of a kill.

Tubbo struggled. He couldn’t get free.

He found himself desperately wanting Phil.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

One moment, he was there. Pinned, claustrophobic, light glinting off a sword and into his eyes. Achy, terrified, with his mind reeling incoherent thoughts.

Then, he wasn’t.

He was out of the way, in open space, with arms around him.

For a moment, he thought he was dead.

“Tubbo?”

The timid voice was breathless, frantic, shaking. But Tubbo recognized it either way, and before he opened his eyes, he was positive he was dead.

When he looked up, he was staring at the cathedral’s ceiling, and purple sparks that hovered in the air like dust.

Harsh breathing came from his left, and he turned his head, struggling to even move at that point.

He wasn’t sure if he was really seeing the face beside him or not. Unsure if he was hallucinating, dead, or if he was really here.

Ranboo’s eyes were wide and frantic, his gaze darting between whatever was going on behind them and Tubbo in front of him. He was laying on his side, breathing harshly, and Tubbo took a moment to think about what happened.

Ranboo... teleported him out. Risked his life.

“Tubbo?” Ranboo squeaked, limbs weak for a brief moment as he struggled to get to his hands and knees and look over his friend. “Are you okay?”

Tubbo huffed, looking at his right.

A new scene moved before his eyes; Schlatt, up against the wall, with a seemingly furious Phil aiming his sword right at his neck, and Wilbur hovering behind him.

Tubbo heaved. “Yeah,” he sighed, his eyes closing as he rested his hands on his chest. “I am, big man. I just need a second.”

Ranboo sighed above him, though his rumbling was still loud and true. Tubbo didn’t know such a simple sound could make him feel so much better. After a moment of catching his breath, he sat up, Ranboo’s hand hovering over his shoulder to stabilize him as he slowly got to his feet.

Tubbo could overhear the conversation happening nearby. “Phil,” Schlatt exclaimed, with a faux cheery tone meant to mask the... nervousness, he seemed to be feeling. Tubbo couldn’t really blame him when he was on the wrong end of Phil’s blade. “Philza! Long time, no see!”

Phil’s only response was to press the point of the sword to the man’s neck, as he exhaled shakily, followed by a nervous chuckle. “I, I wouldn’t have made such a ruckus if I knew the kids were with you.”

“Nice to know that other kids have it so well around you,” Phil sneered. His wings were wide and outstretched, and he was almost bigger than Schlatt in image. His feathers were spiked, his stance was strong, and Tubbo was thankful he was never on Phil’s bad side.

“You, you always seemed to like the odd ones,” Schlatt muttered.

Ranboo hovered over Tubbo’s shoulder as the two of them joined Phil’s side.

Tubbo caught Schlatt’s glare. Even then, he didn’t hide his contempt, and there seemed to be a sort of grudge, there. But Tubbo didn’t worry just then, not with Phil at his side.

“We’re going to leave,” Phil said. “And you’re going to calm the fuck down, and leave us the fuck alone.”

Schlatt frowned, only briefly, then smirked. “Anything goes for the Angel of Death.”

Phil looked over at Tubbo with his darkened eyes, shadowed by his hat. “Let’s go,” was all he said, and though he didn’t put away his sword, he let it dangle at his side as he guided the kids to the door.

Tubbo took one more glance back at Schlatt as they moved. He couldn’t help the way his stomach lurched at the sight of the man, and hated the way his gaze lingered on him, all six eyes blinking in a rhythmic motion rather than all at once. And a crooked grin cracked along his face, one that left a message that was loud and clear—this was not the last time they’d meet.

They stepped through the double doors, and Tubbo reveled in the cool night air on the other side.

•••

As soon as they were all in an alleyway, left alone in quiet stillness of the sleeping streets, Phil’s dark demeanor slipped away, just enough for him to show his concern. “Are all of you okay?”

“Yeah,” the three boys said in unison. While Wilbur was standing and leaning against the wall, Tubbo was sat down next to him, with Ranboo close to his side.

Phil scowled, and pushed his hat back so it rested between his wings as he lowered to a knee. “Tubbo? I could see he was attacking you pretty harshly.”

“I’m okay,” Tubbo replied, and opened one button on his green shirt just enough to show the pale purple armor on his chest, where lines had been carved in by Schlatt’s sword. “He didn’t get me.”

“How’d you guys get there in time?” Wilbur asked, his cloudy eyes still staring off into space.

Phil’s head cocked to the left. “Ask Ranboo.”

Tubbo blinked, looking over at his friend, who’s chin was rested on his knees until his name was mentioned. The rumbling hadn’t stopped. “Uh, I... I know Schlatt.”

Silence. Tubbo frowned, glancing briefly at Phil, then looking back at Ranboo.

“When Phil mentioned he was going to Alizar,” Ranboo explained, voice small and hesitant. “I was kind of content, ‘cause I know he’s dealt with worse, but when I realized you were going there, Tubbo, I...” He gulped. His tail flicked behind him, showing his rushing thoughts. “I got scared. I couldn’t stay home. When I got here, I found Phil, and asked if he knew where you were, and he said the church.”

“I had no idea Schlatt was in town,” Phil pitched in, sitting down and slouching against the wall across from Tubbo. “I haven’t been to Alizar’s church in years. If I knew he’d be here, I never would’ve even considered sending you there. My first destination would’ve been the guard.”

Tubbo scowled, glancing at where he’d placed his gloves in his lap, and the exposed armor along his hands, where there were deeper scrapes and crevices caused by Schlatt’s blade. “Who... who is he?”

“Long time con man, Hybrid,” Wilbur called, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “Murderer, brewer, every other horrible thing under the sun.”

“And warlock,” Ranboo added, his voice barely audible as he said the words.

Tubbo, barely even able to stay awake at this point from the exhaustion, struggled to comprehend what even happened that night. “How, how do you know him? Ranboo?”

Ranboo’s gaze darted, and little warbler slipped out. “Long story. That I would rather talk about alone.”

Tubbo scowled, looking at Phil, who spoke with no addressing. “He and I were coworkers for a while. Long, long time ago, I bought potions from him when I was still really active. Then, he...” Phil’s gaze wandered briefly to Ranboo. “Did things I didn’t agree with, and I reported it. He got arrested, but he either tipped them off or escaped. I wouldn’t be surprised about either option. The guard must think that some other priest is running the church at the moment, ‘cause if they knew he was in town, he’d probably already be a dead man in the gallows.”

“I knew about him through Phil, but I’ve never met him before this,” Wilbur pitched in. “Since I never knew what he looked like, I got tricked. I’m not sure how he concluded I was heading to the End, must’ve been something I said or implied, but he hit me with a blindness potion and locked me in the storage room before I even realized what I’d gotten myself into.”

Tubbo’s sigh was shaky. His eyes were barely staying open. “He caught on that I wanted the same thing after I came asking for Wilbur. Then he got all excited when he found out I was a Hybrid. And then when I got away from him, he just got mad, and wanted me dead.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Phil muttered, glancing at the ground.

“Will Wilbur be okay?” Ranboo asked.

Wilbur scoffed, his head turning away. “I’ll be fine, it’s temporary.”

“Don’t think it’s gonna get you out of a conversation,” Phil called, then rose to his feet, his wings adjusting and stretching. “We should find shelter and get you two some rest. There’s some abandoned buildings on the other side of town.”

•••

Tommy counted fifteen rods in his sack as he bounded through a hall and stopped below a staircase, catching his breath and wheezing as he eyed the hall nearby for the other flaming fucks at the other end.

“Shit,” he breathed, looking down at his satchel. “Jack, you better be having a better time than I am.”

•••

Even though Jack didn’t like admitting it, there were parts of the Nether he missed. Like the quietness of the Warped Forests, or the flowery smell of the Crimson Woods, or the views of lava lakes.

One thing he absolutely, positively did not miss, were the locals.

The rotting pig people who he never could communicate with even before he made his escape. They had a short attention span, which was fine until he needed business, and when they were there, they were always. Always there. Never gone. Always over his shoulders in crowds, always watching, and never. Shutting. Up.

“Ender Pearl,” he tried to tell them, though the language barrier was getting to him.

The man in front of him picked over the handful of gold nuggets, claws poking and prodding as if they’d attack if they were rustled too much. Jack was sitting on a hillside, his chin in his hand, scowling as his patience grew thin. “Pearl. Ender. Like, three more Ender Pearls. Not string, not a little chunk of obsidian. Please.”

He’d already had his satchel full of at least seven Pearls, which was great, he knew that, but the process was agonizing. If he hadn’t made a habit of this before his trip to the Overworld, maybe it wouldn’t have been so infuriating. But he was used to the slowness and language barrier, which grew even more annoying when he could understand them but never speak to them. He spent a lot of his time using hand gestures and resisting the urge to scream.

The pig man reached into the large bag on his belt. That brief moment of hope quickly diminished as Jack was handed a dark chunk of obsidian.

“Why?” he exclaimed, rubbing his tired eyes. “Why would you give me a rock for gold? Why are you the way you are?”

The pig man only snorted his response, unable to understand the words of Jack’s torture, though probably reading it easily off his body language.

Jack groaned, taking out a few more pieces of gold, the last he had, and handing it over. “Last one. Ender Pearls. Pearls. Round. I know you have them.” He made a circle with his hands. “Pearl. Please, before I shrivel up and die in a hole.”

A pause. The creature reached back, retrieved something, and...

Jack could’ve cried tears of joy. “Oh, thank the Gods,” he muttered, collecting two Pearls and stuffing them into his satchel as he stood. “That took way too long.”

The pig man snorted behind him.

“Yeah, fuck you, too.” He kept going, only stopping at the edge of the cliff, where he paused briefly to look over the lava lake.

It was hard to describe. It wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t calm, nor was it chaotic. The Nether, to him, felt like a mirror of anything bad from the Overworld, and at times, that included the silence. It included a feeling of numbness rather than pain. Jack had never realized what the mirror was reflecting until that first time Tommy ever suggested going to live with him.

It was crazy, sure. Most likely a death sentence. But to see behind the curtain, Jack couldn’t lose that. He needed that.

He longed for it. He missed a place he’d never been before.

Jack set out to find Tommy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again thanks for the comments and the kudos!!! I didn't expect this much support but I appreciate it so much :D


	13. Nether Endeavors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Broken Bones, Light themes/discussions of abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ALMOST FORGOT TO POST THIS BECAUSE OF LORE TODAY AAA but hi guys :] thanks again for kudos and comments!

“There. How’s that feel?”

Tubbo’s fingers pressed on the bandage against his temple, where the cut he’d gained stung under his pressure. “Good. Thanks.”

Their quiet voices carried out through the old, empty building, feeling much too loud in a much too quiet room. Out the boarded window at their left, they could see Phil having a very expressive conversation with Wilbur, who’s head hung and gaze lingered into nothing.

“That was too close,” Ranboo muttered, turning to sit against the wall. “That was scary.”

Tubbo didn’t comment. He was growing much too exhausted to have a conversation, but at the same time, Ranboo’s presence was comforting, and he didn’t want to pass out on him in the middle of a conversation. “How are you feeling?” he asked instead. “Feeling worn out?”

“Sort of,” Ranboo replied, his eyes lingering on his hands. “Teleporting has been getting easier. I don’t get as tired.”

“Maybe someday you’ll be a true Enderman,” Tubbo joked, but Ranboo’s only response was a hesitant smile.

The argument on the other side of the wall in front of them seemed to escalate, Wilbur standing up and using his hands to emphasize his words.

Tubbo sighed. “What a day.”

A pause.

Ranboo shifted, crossing his legs in front of him and clutching the fabric of his pants. “Do you... still want to know how I knew Schlatt?”

At that, Tubbo froze. He took a long second to calculate his words, unsure how to respond. “Not... if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Ranboo inhaled sharply. His tail swiped back and forth across the floor, and his ear flapped. “So, when I was younger...”

Tubbo quickly straightened in his seat. His exhaustion was forgotten.

“It was kind of hard for me to find a place to stay, since I was very obviously a Hybrid. So, I was moving around with different people, until I ran into Schlatt.”

He lifted his knees to his chest, staring into space as he wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on top. “He didn’t exactly like me, but, I’m the way I am, so, he wanted to keep me around. He never really let me teleport, or make sounds, or anything like that. I wanted to leave, but he threatened me a lot. Whenever I rumbled, he got angry, but I can’t even help that.”

There was a moment where anger flashed in Tubbo’s chest. But the way Ranboo looked, how much he fidgeted, how he stared off into the air and how his thoughts were illustrated by each little tick, he forgot entirely of Schlatt as a person and could only think of what the result was in front of him.

“I don’t really know why he kept me around,” Ranboo went on, trying his best to keep his voice from portraying too much more than he’d liked. “I mean, he had no obligation. And by the time I did get the courage to leave, he didn’t follow through on his promise to chase me. Maybe he just liked the thought of control, I don’t know. Or he liked that I had to rely on him and I had no other option.”

Tubbo breathed slow, calculating his words carefully before he said them. “When... when you said, before, that you’ve had things tested out, was that with Schlatt?”

Ranboo paused, his shoulders stiffening, gaze dropping. “Yeah.” He was trying to force casualness in his tone, though it was hard to miss the bit of a tremble within it.

Tubbo frowned. The air was heavy. “I’m sorry.”

“Meh, it didn’t even last all that long. And I met Wilbur, then I met you. It’s... it’s not bad anymore.”

He might’ve been telling the truth. Tubbo could believe him if he said he was okay. But there was also the fact he knew for sure he’d never spoken of this before, with anyone. And if Tubbo knew anything, it was that he felt extremely flattered that he was so trustworthy.

“Can I give you a hug, big man?” Tubbo asked.

Ranboo grinned. He didn’t even answer before he tossed long, lanky arms around Tubbo’s shoulders, pulling him close into a hug that Tubbo didn’t realize he, too, really, really needed.

He felt Ranboo’s head press into his shoulder. The low rumbling that portrayed anxiety, it was gone, and replacing it was the quiet warbles and trills that almost sounded like a song. Yeah, that was what it was. Ranboo sang when he was happy.

“If it’s okay,” Ranboo said, as he pulled away, and propped a big hand into Tubbo’s curls. “I’m gonna come with you.”

Tubbo grinned, antennae springing up. “Of course I’m okay with that.”

•••

It took too much time and too many shuddering breaths for Jack to force himself to step into the fortress hall. When he did, the feeling that washed over him was a mix of nostalgia and anxiety.

The seemingly infinite maze welcomed him with terrifying silence. He crept slow and carefully, sparks dancing at his fingertips in a quiet threat. Even he never got used to the utter silence of the halls.

But he was more surprised by the shouting than he was of the quiet.

The yelling closed in from somewhere far, getting louder as the source grew closer.

Jack bounded forward, and stepped into an intersection just in time to be the target for a second body slamming straight into him, both crashing to the floor.

“What the fuck!”

It was easy for Jack to recognize the squeal coming from Tommy as he scrambled to get to his feet above him. Jack cranes his neck to look at what must’ve been chasing him.

Where he expected Blazes, instead a dark silhouette was marching towards them from the far end, old, jagged dark sword dangling from the dark skeletons hands. Pieces of it would float off into the hall like ashes, withering away, but never gone.

“What the fuck is that?!” Tommy cried. He reached down to grab Jack’s arm, only to flinch back at what seemed to be the heat he’d garnered during there time down there. “Ow! Fuck!”

“Where did you go that was guarded by one of the skeletons?!” Jack cried, climbing to his feet and following him down a new hall, separate from where he’d come.

“I don’t fucking know! I went upstairs—!” Tommy’s exclamation was cut off by harsh coughs that erupted from his throat. With one worried glance, Jack continued to guide him.

Their footsteps were the loudest things in the fortress. Far ahead was a bridge, leading to the next piece of hanging land that Jack was almost positive led back to the portal. If they could just get across—

A new shadow dropped from the top of the hall, blocking the exit. Tommy growled, his sword flying up. Jack glanced over his shoulder, to see the other skeleton approaching from behind.

“Stay behind me, so you don’t get hit,” Jack said. “And don’t let them touch you!”

Tommy twisted around to look at him, sweat glinting on his face. “What?”

Jack flicked his wrist.

Fire lit from his fingertips and rose up his arms, riding up the back of his head and down his back like a mane of flames. Tommy squealed, scrambling a few feet away to avoid the fire.

Throwing his arm forward like he was throwing a ball, fire blasted forward and crashed into the skeleton’s shoulder, bones rattling and cracking with an ugly snap as the flames burned away at the ashy substance holding these things together. They floated through the air like leaves, and the smell was growing harsh.

Tommy coughed again behind him. Jack spun around, giving the other foe the same treatment. They weren’t going down, not that easily, but one less arm and a weak shoulder was better than nothing.

Jack blasted forward at the skeleton blocking their path one more time. Though it had the thought to move sideways, only catching inches of the fire in it’s opposite shoulder as it’s balance wavered against the wall.

“Let’s go!” Jack called, and Tommy didn’t argue, both of them pressing past a briefly incapacitated monster at their right.

Tommy coughed again. When Jack looked back, he saw the way there was a stutter in Tommy’s steps, and heard how shallow his breaths had become. The reminder that he was not fit for this place in the slightest came crashing down on him much too fast.

They came to a sudden stop when they came across a large gap in the bridge, much too wide to jump. “Shit,” Tommy hissed, as Jack spun around to look over his shoulder.

The skeletons were approaching, long legs bounding forward as they left ashes trailing on the floor in their wake.

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to hold two people and glide at the same time, would you?” Jack breathed.

Tommy wheezed in a raspy breath. “Fuck no. It’s hard enough to keep myself up.”

The skeleton grew closer. Jack rose his hand, fire trailing his movements before he shot forward. Though chunks of black dust disintegrated off one, both skeletons continued their route.

Jack took another look at Tommy, who’s sword had a tremble to it.

His breath shuddered. If anyone could do anything, it’d be him, he knew that. He stepped forward, and with a swipe of his hand, fire blasted a stripe across the path, a barricade between them and the skeletons on the other side. “Climb on the railing!” Jack called to Tommy, who’s gaze was locked on the enemy. “Stab their skulls, do not let them touch—!”

“Look out!”

Tommy’s call was just barely made in time for Jack to spin around and step away from a swinging sword, and an ashy skeleton dressed in flames reached for him with burning bony hands.

Jack scrambled backward, narrowly missing it’s touch against his face.

But it was at the cost of his balance. His weight swung over the railing behind him, and the old, brittle material fell away.

He was plummeting. It was so quick, too fast for him to really register.

Until he just. Wasn’t falling.

Jack’s breath shuddered and wheezed out of him, but it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as the second breaths he heard, coming from above him.

Something clutched his arm, and though he was still dropping, he wasn’t falling, not at a fatal speed. Wrapped around Jack’s arm was one set of Tommy’s talons, while his wings flapped harshly and frantically, and his hands tried to reach for the wall of the bridge, but they were slow falling too far away from it.

“Tommy?!” Jack cried, but Tommy couldn’t answer, grunting at the strength he was attempting while his fingers grazed red brick, the ground slowly growing closer and closer, just barely at a safer distance.

Those wings were barely meant for two people, let alone two, and Jack knew Tommy’s energy was already deteriorating before then.

So, it wasn’t much surprise when his strength had drained, and they plummeted the rest of the way.

Jack hit the ground and rolled a few feet down the hill with a grunt, the impact reverberating from his back and through his lungs as he struggled to catch his breath. The shock and speed of the event had him struggling to register what was happening around him.

As he sat up, and heaved his breaths, the fires along his skin diminished.

It was then when he’d finally registered hearing Tommy behind him, and his groans and repeated swears coming through a raspy, squeaky voice.

He looked over his shoulder to see Tommy on his back, one leg slightly bent upwards while his back arched and his eyes squeezed shut.

Jack’s heart dropped, and he scrambled over to his friend’s side. “Tommy? What’s wrong?”

“Fuck,” Tommy hissed. “My leg.”

Jack paused, his eyes darting from Tommy’a face, down to his leg. “Which one?”

“L-Left.”

The bent one. Jack’s hands hovered, unsure, oblivious to what to do. “What-What happened? How’d that happened? The fall wasn’t far—“

“My bones are as hollow as your fucking skull, Manifold!” Tommy cried, and for that one sentence, he’d managed to open his eyes before the pain shut him up again. “Fuck!”

“Okay, okay! Not the time to panic!” He looked around, eyeing the options to get to the cliffs above them. Hillsides, steep but climbable slopes. He turned his attention back to Tommy.

Poor kid was a mess, swearing in every way he could while his hands were tense at his sides, eyes squeezed shut, and breaths wheezing, even coughing at times. The sweat had leaked through his shirt. The place had already taken a toll on him, and this whole situation had set them back miles.

Jack breathed shakily. “O-Okay. There’s a hill over there, as long as we’re careful to avoid the fortress, we can get back to the portal. I’m gonna have to carry you.”

“No, just—just let me lean on you.”

“Tommy, you’re not doing good at all, even besides the leg. You need to get back to the Overworld.”

“Fuck,” Tommy hissed again, followed by weak coughs that seemed to never stop. Jack reached out his hand, and after a moment, Tommy went to take it. Briefly, his hand retracted at the heat, but it wasn’t intense enough for him to be unable to touch.

Jack turned around, and Tommy’s arms wrapped around his neck while Jack was as careful as possible in hauling his legs up.

Tommy whined through gritted teeth. “Double fuck. Shit fuck.”

“Understandable,” Jack breathed.

And off they went.

•••

The walk was agonizing, and long. Jack didn’t know when, but at one point, Tommy had passed out—which had him more concerned than not, considering the circumstances of the situation.

When he’d reached the portal, he didn’t think he could be more thankful, praying and thanking whoever was watching.

Him and Tommy returned to the Overworld when it was dark and cold, the loud sounds of crickets and the calls of night birds welcoming them back.

Jack hit the dirt and stopped for a moment. His legs were aching, barely because of Tommy, more so from the hours of work they had done. Tommy he could handle—kid was unnaturally light.

He only stopped when they were secure beneath the thick coverings of dark trees, where the stars were blocked and the wind was quiet. But still, the noises all around him were overwhelming—the silence in the Nether could never compare.

He laid Tommy down and quickly spun around to look him over. Still way too hot, it seemed, and the wheeze in his breath was unsettling. Despite being asleep, his face displayed clear discomfort.

“Tommy?” Jack asked, with the slightest of sternness in his tone.

Tommy mumbled something Jack didn’t catch, followed by his hand coming up to rub at his eyes as he came to. “Fucking hell.”

“That was fun,” Jack muttered, knelt down at his side, meeting his gaze.

If looks could kill, Jack would’ve been dead twice over. Tommy groaned, using weak arms to sit up, wincing with the movement. He pulled his satchel off his shoulders, and rested it in his lap. 

“I’m gonna look for some sticks for your leg,” Jack said, rising to his feet. “You should get some water in you.”

Jack didn’t earn a response as he turned his back to him and faced the trees.

He barely got anywhere before he heard Tommy yell, “I’d drink some water if I fucking had some.”

Frowning, Jack turned, looking his way. “It dried up?”

Jack got his answer when Tommy’s canteen dropped at his feet. “This is a fucking disaster.”

Pausing, Jack picked up the canteen, then stepped back over to Tommy’s side. “I’ll get some for you.”

Tommy’s death glare melted away into a look of concern, and he appeared much more exhausted, much more worn. Eyes dark, skin pale. There was a slight tremble in his hands. “No—You’ll hurt yourself.”

“If you’ve taught me anything, water to you Overworld folk is a little important,” Jack replied, trying hard to keep a bit of humor in his tone. “And besides, you took a beating in there.”

Tommy’s gaze darkened, then dropped to his hands.

Without another word, Jack rose to his feet and stepped into the woods.

It was then when he was settling into the noise of the Overworld again, and those feelings of nostalgia he’d felt down below were quickly gone.

He came upon a small stream, cutting through the woods with a quiet trickling, like a song ringing through the trees.

Jack hesitated, glancing over his shoulder in Tommy’s direction, then knelt down at the riverbank.

Holding his breath, he dipped the canteen into the flowing water.

Where it crashed against his fingers, dark rock formed and locked his joints around the canteen’s sides. He gritted his teeth; at this small a scale, it didn’t really hurt, it was more of an irritation. It did make things difficult until the rocks-for-scabs eventually healed and fell away.

When the canteen was full, he popped it closed. On his way back, he managed to collect sticks large enough to use as a splint.

When he returned to the clearing, Tommy had his head rested in one hand, eyes pinched shut. His wings were collapsed at his sides, almost completely limp.

Jack inhaled sharply. “Here.”

Tommy’s head picked up as Jack sat down next to him, handing over the canteen.

A trembling hand rose, and Jack caught how Tommy’s eyes were glued on his fingers.

“Thanks,” Tommy mumbled, popped the cap off the canteen, and downed almost all of the water inside.

“I’m gonna need to splint your leg, Tommy,” Jack said, voice tight. “And it’s probably gonna suck.”

“Just fucking do it.”

Jack forced himself not to hesitate.

He lifted Tommy’s leg, and rested his ankle on a rock, Tommy’s face scrunching into a deep scowl while a swear hissed passed his teeth.

Jack worked slowly and carefully wrapping his leg.

“Jack,” Tommy croaked.

“Sorry, I’m working as quick as I—“

“No, Jack, I’m sorry.”

Jack paused, only briefly, his eyes darting up for a small moment before his attention returned to the task at hand. “For what?”

“For this. I mean, you’re already fucking sick, now you’ve gotta baby me this whole trip.”

“Fuck off with that. Don’t feel bad about what happened,” Jack snapped back. “If I was the one that broke my leg, it wouldn’t have been any easier or harder. We went into this expecting shit to happen, we’re going to get through this either way.”

Tommy was silent, just for a moment. His gaze dropped again.

When Jack began securing his leg, Tommy hissed. “Fuck.”

“Did you get the powder?” Jack asked, carefully, softly, hoping Tommy didn’t take it in the wrong way.

Tommy breathed. “Yeah.” The tension lifted, just a little. “Pearls?”

“Yeah,” Jack replied, and a smirk flashed slightly on his face. “Looks like it’s not all bad.”

“Sorry I had to kill a bunch of your cousins.”

“One, not my cousins. Two, they don’t think, they’re stationed guards created to guard. Don’t feel bad about it.”

“I murdered a bunch of your cousins.”

“You sound a little too excited about saying that.”

“Annihilated your birth blood.”

“I wasn’t even born—“

“Stabbed a sword through your—ow, shit-fuck!”

“Not on purpose, sorry.”

“Fuck you!”


	14. Perception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing
> 
> looks like someone hit the first checkpoint in the race 0_0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SO LATE VERY SORRY. anyway hi :]

1 YEAR, 2 MONTHS AGO  
Water sloshed around Wilbur’s shoes as he stepped into the tunnel, darkness surrounding him at every angle until he flicked on a torch. The glow reflected and danced across stone brick walls, until the pitch blackness ahead swallowed up the light for good, rendering him blind to what could be ahead.

He moved slow and careful. At each side of the stream he walked through, there were sidewalks covered in moss and vines and weeds, and there was the occasional ladder leading up above ground.

Wilbur was hesitant. As much as he wanted what he wanted, there was no saying what could happen. In darkness, in the cold underground, he knew there was a pair of eyes staring at him from somewhere.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a sound filled the tunnel–a low croon. A warble.

“Hello?” he called with a neutral tone, but the echo made the one word sound so much more demanding, so much louder. He lowered his voice. “I’m unarmed.”

No response. 

The only sound for a long moment was the tiny, rhythmic note of dripping water. 

Wilbur rose his torch higher, and stepped deeper into the underground.

Another warble echoed, the same as before. He couldn’t tell if it was a warning sign or a sound of comfort for that who made it, but if he knew anything about who he was searching for, it was probably the latter. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved by the idea, or more worried.

The truth was, he was the most intimidated by this goal than he had been in a while. After breaking in the art of recruiting fellow weirdos, it’d become easy to find out how to connect with them, to make them comfortable around him.

That all changed when the person he wanted to be friends with was much more powerful than he was. He might not be able to die a second time, but he also didn’t feel like joining the dust that floated in the air, not yet.

So, he was careful. He kept his movements slow, and his guard up.

He wasn’t surprised when his next interaction with the eerie figure was a hiss coming from behind him.

He spun around just in time to come face to face with sharp green eyes and claws aiming for his face.

Wilbur vanished on the spot, the torch falling from his hand and dropping into the water with a hiss.

Purple sparks hovered through the air, lighting the tall, lanky figure in the same color as he spun around frantically in search of an invisible Wilbur.

“Please, don’t panic!” Wilbur called. The hiss and growl of the kid echoed loudly, almost drowning out his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you, I want to help.”

“Who are you for?” the kid asks, and there’s a second voice behind his normal one. “What do you want? Do you work for—“

“I don’t work for anyone except for people like you,” Wilbur interrupted, keeping his tone soft.

Behind the defensive anger of this individual, there was harsh breathing, a trembling voice, shaking hands and wild eyes that betrayed what he wanted to portry. “Stop hiding!” he cried, spinning in circles, claws out. “What do you want with me?!”

“I can tell you’re hurt,” Wilbur went on. He was walking circles around him, keeping at his back to avoid eye contact as well as claws he was just a little more than uncomfortable with being close to. “You’re just a kid, I know that. What’s happened wasn’t fair, and neither is the way you think you need to stay here to be safe. No one deserves to be isolated.”

There was no reply. The kid’s trembling hands lowered.

Wilbur was hesitant. But after a moment, he finds the courage to show himself again, making sure he does it from behind to keep from spooking the poor boy. “I’m right behind you, I’m visible again. I have my hands up. I’m not going to hurt you.”

There was a pause, before the kid turned around. And it was in that moment where the terrifying demeanor slipped away to show just how young and scared he really was—hunched shoulders, wide eyes, shaking hands that were locked together.

“My name is Wilbur.” Wilbur extended his hand slowly. “And I came here to help you.”

•••

Ranboo awoke to golden sunlight seeping through the gaps in the boarded up window across the room.

A couple feet to his left was Tubbo, still sound asleep, then Phil next to him, his wings replacing a blanket and almost completely cocooning him.

As the sleepiness left his eyes, Ranboo yawned a wide, unhinged yawn, a little trill slipping from his throat. He sat up, and rubbed his eyes, peering over the two sleeping beside him.

“Morning.”

Ranboo gasped at the voice, and looked over the room to see Wilbur lounging against the wall in the far corner of the room, next to the front door.

His sight was back, evident by the way he unblinkingly glared at him across the room.

Ranboo paused, slowly standing from his seat and approaching Wilbur’s side. “Do you just sit here while we sleep?”

A pause. “Yeah. You get good at sitting and thinking when you’re dead.”

Ranboo had no response, except to slowly lower and sit down beside the man. Wilbur’s gaze lingered on the ceiling, brow furrowed in a deep scowl.

“What did you and Phil talk about last night?”

At that, Wilbur frowned, glancing at the floor. There was a slight tick in one of his hands; a constant tap against his knee, or in the air if his wrists were wrested on his legs. “Lotta things,” he replied, then one hand rose and scratched briefly at his chin, before he forced his hand to drop down again. “Mainly how he wants me back at the lagoon because I have a responsibility.” A deep, wheezing, awkward chuckle escaped him. “Even dead, I can’t relax.”

Ranboo struggled for a response, and his gaze briefly wandered to the sleeping figures nearby. “Forgive me, if this is intrusive,” he said, carefully, as he looked back Wilbur’s way. “But... do you want to come back to life?”

The wheeze in Wilbur’s breath seemed so much more distinct in that moment. “I don’t know, to be honest.”

Ranboo had to admit, he was surprised.

“What I know I want is answers,” Wilbur went on, staring at the crooked floorboard below him. “I just want to know what happened to me. It’s like... it’s like I can just barely see what I want through a keyhole, but I don’t have the key to getting more info on the other side.”

There was a tremble, the smallest of shudders in Wilbur’s fidgeting hands hovering in front of him. Ranboo folded his hands in his lap. He couldn’t help the thoughts that crossed his mind, questions, and the possibilities of answers. But what questions were worth such a journey? No, he wasn’t here for the answers–the only answer to his problems were people, and apparently, his people needed something else. So, here he was, latched on like a super tall teleporting leech.

Wilbur looked his way with a bit of a scowl. “What are you doing here? You’re really here just for Tubbo? The man who arguably has the strongest connection to a whole ass other dimension?”

“I don’t have anything I need from there,” Ranboo replied awkwardly, his gaze locked on his tangled fingers. “The only thing I need are my friends, and all of them are heading in this direction. After what happened last night, I... I’m glad I came.”

Purple sparks floated circles around his hands where they fiddled on his knees. “I guess being alone was worse than...”

That presence beside him was gone.

Ranboo lifted his head. 

There was an empty space where Wilbur once was before.

•••

Within the wide river of the forest, where it weaved through the trees and it’s sound bounced through the wood, Niki waited. Inside crystal blue water she sat, eyes closed, pink hair flowing like fire beneath the rapids. 

When Wilbur hadn’t returned, she told herself she’d give it a day. What much could she do, really, especially since she knew he couldn’t really die? How much trouble could a ghost get in?

So, she was surprised, when, against the canopy of trees, she spotted a shape moving on the other side of the rapids. Niki hesitated for a moment, unsure if she wanted to know who could be stalking the forest above her.

She only reacted when she spotted a hand carve through the flowing water.

What she didn’t expect to feel just then was anger, but that was what came to mind first. She pushed through the water, tail fighting against the effort of the current around her as she cut through the surface and kept herself in place by gripping a rock on the riverbank.

Wilbur peered down at her with wide eyes, and a broken smile. “Hi.”

Niki simply glared.

Breaking her gaze, Wilbur lowered to the grass, shedding his satchel off his shoulder. “I, uh, got the stuff.” His voice slipped into a more timid tone the longer Niki glared. 

Her claws scraped along the stone with her grip. “Where’d you go?”

Wilbur paused, hands tense where he rested them in his lap. “Had a bit of a setback.”

Niki sighed, her head dipping. “I’m angry with you. Just because I had no reason to really worry, unless you’re planning on jumping into a fire at some point.”

Wilbur was silent. He reached to his satchel, and retrieved three jars from inside. “We should start figuring out how to use this on the Pearls–”

“What happened, Wilbur?”

There was only a brief pause, before Wilbur put aside the jars, finally meeting Niki’s gaze again. “I got held up. I’m sorry about abandoning you.”

“I just want to know what happened.”

Wilbur’s eyes darted. Then, he scoffed. “Caught up with an old friend o’ Phil’s. Got a little held back. In his basement.”

Niki blinked. “No way.”

“Had quite the time down there. Quite the time to think.”

Silence. Niki could see the tension enter his body. “Do you still want to do this, Wilbur?”

A pause. Wilbur’s hand rested on the lid of a jar. “More than ever.”

Niki stiffened, adjusting herself so she was closer to the rock.

“Do you?”

Wilbur’s question came before she could speak again, and she paused. She’d already asked herself this question, and she wasn’t sure if she had the answer.

“I don’t want to force you to come with me.”

“I wanted to come with you because you had me in mind,” Niki replied. “But I’m wondering how well this is going to go when I’m kind of stuck here.” 

She spoke low, partially to herself. Where Wilbur expected more of that anger, instead he saw a look of concern. She seemed torn, almost, her mind busy while she thought.

“There’s got to be a way,” Wilbur said. When he inched a little closer, a spot of sun was exposed by swaying leaves above his head, burning straight through his clothes and stinging on his skin. 

Wilbur retracted with a small gasp. 

The silence that fell between them was heavy. It seemed even the woods couldn’t take the tension.

“I can understand why you want it,” Niki said, her eyes darting to where the sun had burned a hole in Wilbur’s clothes. “But not why you’d want to help me, too.”

Wilbur’s responding expression was unreadable. Regret? Guilt?

“Because you look lonely.”

Niki met his gaze. 

“And I feel lonely,” Wilbur went on. “And if we can find a way to allow us both to be happy without worrying about the specifics, maybe we can be lonely together.”

Niki was surprised to hear herself snicker in response to his comment. She knew damn well Wilbur was too smart for her facade. Fine, maybe she was lonely. Maybe the loss of her friends left a larger hole than she could heal alone. 

“You don’t have to do this for me,” she said softly, resting her cheek against the side of the rock. “But if you’re insisting, I’ll insist, too.”

•••

Tommy didn’t remember falling asleep, only realizing it had happened when he woke up the next day.

It was overcast out. He could smell the rain, and could expect it there within that day. It took much, much longer for him to really wake up and open his eyes, and the first thing he did upon looking up to the gray sky was mutter, “Fuck.”

The wind was harsh, a warning of the coming weather. The ache in his leg that reached all the way to his chest was a quick reminder of the events of the day before.

As Tommy turned to look over the area around him, he found himself untangling out of of a thick blanket that he originally recognized on Jack’s back. But he was a few feet away, still sound asleep, with the other fifty blankets he brought with him splayed over his back. 

Tommy frowned. Was he already sick again? With a groan, he sat up with weak arms, rubbing his eyes and examining the woods around them. The wind blew through the trees, the leaves breathing with the movement, and the gray clouds were crossing the sky quick. 

He scowled, adjusting his seat so he could look back at his wings. He lifted them, spread them, shifted them. There was a certain movement that sent a small shock of pain down his back, spreading from right in the center of the gap between his wings. 

His lip curled at the shitty feeling. When he twisted around to examine the place, his eyes landed on he and Jack’s bags leaned up against the nearby tree, a few feet out of his reach. He sighed, looked at Jack, and paused. 

Jack looked just as exhausted as he’d been the day before, silent and still and breathing slow where he lied. 

Growling to himself, he turned, and adjusted himself to try and reach his bag. It was too far out of his reach, so he dragged himself over with his hands and pushed with his good leg. He collected his bag into his lap, rifling through until he came across his canteen.

He drank the contents of it, which took at least a quarter of the canteen, until it was empty. As soon as he was out, he groaned, hissing out a swear under his breath as he looked back at Jack again.

He was so sound asleep. Just as tired, if not more.

Tommy sighed, and slid his good leg beneath him. With his free hand, he used the tree as support to stand up, the talons of his broken leg dragging across the dirt.

The splint was still secure. He tried his best not to let it restrain him, hopping here and there while using the trees as support.

It took much too long, but eventually, he ran into the river, where he struggled to sit down without swearing at the pain in his leg and dip the canteen into the current.

When it was full, he took a long drink before filling it full again, then closed the cap. And now the trip back felt ten times harder.

Tommy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before turning around in preparation to get up.

“Tommy–”

Jack’s sudden presence behind him made Tommy scream a scream that bounced through the woods, as he dropped backwards and right into the ice cold water.

Jack snickered, only briefly, before his smirk turned into a grimace. “Tommy, why’d you drag yourself all the way out here?”

“You were sleeping,” Tommy snapped back, wings fluttering the water out of their feathers. “And... water.”

Jack rolled his eyes, lowering to a kneel and extending a hand his way. 

“No, no, just–get me a fucking stick, or something. Give the old man a cane.”

Jack was hesitant, but after a moment, he did as asked, turning around and grabbing a large stick from behind him. Tommy gripped it, but didn’t expect to be yanked to his feet, his bad leg pulsing with pain as he stood straight. “Ow–fuck.”

“Careful–”

“We should start trying to figure out how the fuck to use the Pearls. Before anybody who wants to kill us comes along, or something.”

Jack didn’t reply.

•••

“Don’t use too much. I’m not going back down there to replace it.”

Jack scowled, tossing the pouch of Blaze Powder in his hand. “You literally can’t, anyway.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m powerful as fuck. I can do anything. Fuck you.”

Jack simply sighed, and grabbed one of the Pearls from his pack. “Maybe we just cover it in it.”

“This is kind of gross, I’ll be honest with you,” Tommy replied with a bit of a chuckle. “Not sure what the fuck we’re meant to do with an Enderman’s heart, or whatever. What the fuck do those pig bastards downstairs do with this shit, anyway?”

“I’ve learned to never ask,” Jack said in a grumble. He rested a Pearl in his lap, then untied the sack full of Powder, scooping up a bit to let it rest in his fingers.

There was tension, there, and Tommy couldn’t tell why. Maybe because of their complete obliviousness to how to approach this.

Or the fact they’d already died twice and they haven’t even found the portal yet. And Tommy was completely at Jack’s mercy, there was that, too. He didn’t dare admit it despite knowing it was true.

There was a horrid thought that cursed his mind—with him weak, and Jack already displaying the return of his illness...

“You reckon I should cut it open?” Jack asked.

Tommy scoffed. “Fuck it. Try it.”

Jack simply shrugged, retrieved his knife, and sliced through the sort of rubbery outside of the Pearl.

Tommy stiffened at the sight. It didn’t... bleed, really. It kind of emanated smoke, and Tommy wasn’t a squeamish person, but it was still gross.

Jack’s lip curled as he took not even a handful of Powder and aimed it into the cut. “Ew.”

“What the fuck have our lives come to?”

“Hey, who can you say has had any reason to do this in the last, like, century or two?”

“True.”

Jack held a hand over the hole and shook the Pearl a bit, the Powder spreading like glitter in jelly.

Silence. Tommy arched a brow. “Did that... work?”

“If we’re entering it for a school project, maybe,” Jack replied, peering at the glitter inside.

A moment passed, where it seemed a thought entered Jack’s head, and his golden eyes glinted. “Start a fire.”

Tommy didn’t argue. He used the same fire pit they’d used the night before, lighting sticks and leaves to create a fire not big enough for a camp but enough for their current project.

Jack leaned close, as he took the Pearl, and dropped it in the center.

Silence.

Tommy scowled, glaring Jack’s way as if the man was crazy. “I feel extremely stupid right now.”

“Give it a second,” Jack replied.

A pause. The seconds felt like hours.

Tommy sighed. “Okay—“

There was a spark, like a firework. Tommy’s arm shot up to shield his face from the small explosion, which was followed by orange sparks shifting purple. “What the fuck did you do?!”

“Blaze Rods take the heat and ignite it into fire,” Jack explained with a comical grin on his face. “I ignited the Powder inside.”

And Tommy’s first thought was how dumb he felt for not thinking of that sooner.

The fire grew, just a bit. But already, Tommy could feel the difference; Nether fire was so much harsher, hotter, and stronger.

A thought crossed his mind, only briefly. If they had enough of that Powder...

Jack reached to the fire and plucked out the Pearl.

Tommy couldn’t say what exactly the fire did beyond something fucking weird. The Pearl had shifted colors, from a dark teal to greens and yellows, and there was a dark line through it’s middle giving it a slit pupil.

“Ender Eye, right?” Jack exclaimed. “This looks like an eye if I’ve ever seen one.”

“It looks fucking weird,” Tommy replied, leaning forward. “What’s it do? What do we do now?”

“I don’t know, but I feel like a witch or something right now,” Jack replied, holding the eye close to get a better look.

“Try burning it again.”

Jack paused, then shrugged. He held it in his hand, the golden claws of his fingers pinned to it’s side. With a bit of effort, his heat, stored from the Nether a day before, could spread to the Powder inside.

When the fire lit within it, it was green.

No one could say anything before the Eye lifted an inch above Jack’s hand, purple sparks hovering around it’s sides.

They glared at each other for a moment. Then, Jack snickered, golden eyes sparkling with mischief. “How’s it feel to be the first person to do this in a good two centuries?”

“Fucking weird,” Tommy replied, only moments before the Eye moved.

The pupil flicked one way, then the other, as if it really did belong to some beast.

Then, it was moving, and both boys flinched back as it moved up and forward, away from Jack’s hand, completely on it’s own.

It faced the open field nearby, shadowed by gray skies and shifting with harsh wind.

If floated there, for a long moment.

Then, it dropped into the grass.

A pause.

Jack and Tommy looked at each other.

And Tommy was the first to break the silence with a laugh. “Holy shit.”


	15. Togetherness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you noticed I didn't post a chapter yesterday, no you didnt

“I spy... something green.”

“Tubbo, you’ve spied something green for the last ten minutes.”

“Sorry that ninety percent of the area around us is green.”

“Get better perception.”

Ranboo could tell that Phil was spiting the fact he wasn’t ready to keep an eye on one kid, let alone two. After Wilbur had vanished that morning, Phil had wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible and go after him, ready to fly, only to regrettably hang back in favor of the two boys that had latched on to him without his say in the matter.

So, he stayed grounded. Ranboo knew he was annoyed, especially since Phil wasn’t putting much effort into hiding it. He could understand why—Phil was here for Wilbur, not for them, and he didn’t need distractions.

But where Tubbo was, Ranboo was, and the best he could do was make sure to listen to Phil when he needed to.

But that moment wasn’t that time.

“If you want me to see something else, then put me anywhere else that isn’t the grass field surrounded by a forest under a bunch of storm clouds,” Tubbo replied, a faux sternness to his voice.

Ranboo snickered. “At least try to describe everything by anything other than ‘green.’”

Tubbo was about to reply when Ranboo suddenly gasped at a sting on his hand, then another on his shoulder.

“It’s raining,” Tubbo exclaimed before he could, and within seconds, Phil was standing beside them, extending a wing over Ranboo’s head.

The rain was quick, and behind it was a low rumble of thunder, the storm’s approach growing quicker.

Phil took Ranboo’s sleeve. “The trees, over here.”

“We-we can keep going,” Ranboo squeaked, despite shrinking beneath Phil’s wing.

Phil waved him off. “I wouldn’t want to fly in a thunderstorm.”

At least Ranboo knew Phil’s spite didn’t overcome his care.

Ranboo held Phil’s shoulder, letting him guide the two towards the trees, where the wind latched on to the branches and yanked them sideways.

Phil glanced over his shoulder and under his wing. “This storm looks harsh,” he said. “I can smell it, too. This isn’t the extent of it.”

“Maybe we should find a cave, or something,” Tubbo suggested.

Ranboo shook his head, and when he tried to speak, a nervous trill replaced his words.

Tubbo stepped past him, leaning out from the cover of the trees to examine the clouds above.

Phil sighed, his wing lowering once they were securely under the tree. His arms folded over his chest as his gaze ran over the clouds, and his feathers seemed to spike, maybe in response to the weather.

Ranboo leaned against the tree, folding his hands in front of him. “Uh, Phil, if you want to—“

“I’m not going to fly in this weather, no matter if you were with me or not,” Phil interrupted, his eyes still locked on the field outside their trees. “And don’t get all ‘I don’t care if you don’t make sure I’m safe’ on me. I’m not letting you teleport this far away from home and in this weather.”

Ranboo fell silent, torn on how to feel about the aggressive affection.

Tubbo stepped close again, propping his hands on his hips as he looked directly Phil’s way. “Can I ask you something, big man?”

Phil simply scowled in response.

“What was all of that about yesterday with Schlatt?” he asked. “I know you told us your past with him, but what about your past alone? Like, Philza?”

“Nickname,” Phil said.

“Then what about Angel of Death?”

When Ranboo spoke, all eyes were on him.

“He called you the Angel of Death,” Ranboo repeated, though his tone had weakened. “I think we deserve a little more context behind that.”

Tubbo seemed to straighten, looking back at Phil with big eyes. “Yeah, that’s true. Does Wilbur know about all this?”

Phil’s gaze wandered, his eyes portraying a million thoughts as they ran through his mind. He rested his wrist on the pommel of his sword at his hip, and he turned away. “When you live as long as I have, you meet a lot of people, build up a lot of reputations.”

“So this is a recent thing, then,” Tubbo exclaimed.

Ranboo scowled, ear flicking. From where he sat, the conversation suddenly seemed to turn to a buzz, something else catching his attention that he couldn’t identify. Like a strange feeling, an itch in the back of his mind.

The next time he was able to tune back in, it seemed he hadn’t been the only one to tune out.

“Shut up.”

Tubbo retracted at Phil’s demand. “What?”

“No, I heard something.

Tubbo fell silent, folding his arms over his chest. He eyed the field, the trees above them, searching for what Phil could be talking about.

Ranboo looked Phil’s way. “I think I felt that, too.”

At that, Phil seemed to stiffen, like he hadn’t realized until then that he wasn’t just losing his marbles. He turned and looked to the storm behind him, searching the clouds for an answer. “That’s strange.”

“Are you guys pranking me?” Tubbo exclaimed, glancing back and forth between Phil and Ranboo.

No reply. Ranboo stared at Phil as the man thought.

After a long moment, Phil turned back. “Wilbur will be using this weather to his advantage. I don’t like that we might’ve just felt, that was magic. If he ended up getting somewhere, I need to find him, quick.”

“You just said you weren’t going out in this weather,” Ranboo called.

Phil shrugged. “I’ve been through worse. Except I’d need both of you to stay here. I won’t be long.”

“We can do that,” Ranboo called before Tubbo could comment.

Phil nodded. He took the rim of his hat and pulled it lower, the shadow darkening over his face as his wings spread at his back. “I won’t be long. Keep under cover.”

Phil stepped out into the rain, spread his wings, and took off.

•••

Phil’s least favorite weather was rain, and even worse so thunderstorms.

When he flew in them, that rumbling, the lightning, it was much too close to his personal bubble to be comfortable. The gods were angry, and he was poking the bear. He tried to keep his focus forward.

The woods moved like waves in the harsh wind, leaves dancing and shimmering with the water slick against them. He’d been flying for maybe ten minutes before he spotted an oddity within the green, movement exposed by the waving trees. Soaring downwards, the rumbling thunder was left behind him, as he moved through the trees and perched on a branch above.

It took him a moment to recognize them, but after a closer look, it was clear as day—Tommy and Jack, following... something. And Tommy was looking worse for wear, using a stick for support to help him walk on a splinted leg.

Phil’s first reaction was to roll his eyes. He dropped from the tree, scabbard catching him before he hit it too hard, then approached from behind. “Hey.”

Tommy squealed as he turned around, Jack flinching next to him. He was holding a blanket over his head to fend off the bit of rain that made it through the trees.

Thunder crashed above their head. Phil stepped closer, folding his arms over his chest. “Fancy meeting you two here.”

“What the fuck,” Tommy stated. He was pocketing something, frantically shoving it in his bag, but Phil couldn’t get a good look at it.

“What’d you do to your leg?” Phil asked. “And why are you walking in such a horrible storm?”

“Is this an interrogation? Are you interrogating me, Phil?” Tommy snapped, looking the man over.

Phil scowled, pulling his hat back, all the rainwater he’d collected rolling off the rim. “Not sure what possessed the lot of you to go wandering out into nowhere like this, but I came looking for you. And it’s probably a good thing, because that—“ He pointed to Tommy’s splint. “Does not look good.”

“We’ve got it fucking handled,” Tommy argued. Jack stepped to his side, leaning over to try and talk to him, but Tommy wasn’t having it. “Did you follow us, or happen to find us?”

“That doesn’t matter. Look, I’ve got Ranboo and Tubbo nearby, we can get you two—“

“Tubbo?” Tommy exclaimed, his tone softening, just a little. “Why—Why’d he come out here?”

“Mix of things,” Phil stated flatly. “Look, you two are obviously not in the greatest of situations, why don’t we—?”

“Oh, looks like Dad’s gonna fucking preach to us,” Tommy growled, flipping his walking stick between his hands. “You know we chose to do this, right?”

Jack’s expression was stiff. He couldn’t get a word into the argument, so he was standing by awkwardly, and Phil could only glance at him when they continued.

“Do you have anything useful to say?” Tommy sneered.

Phil glanced away, to take a second to reel back his thoughts. “Would you consider my concern towards the splint on your leg useful?”

“No, because we’ve got it under control.”

“Mm, okay. Which is why you’re dragging yourself through a thunderstorm.”

“We chose to drag ourselves through a thunderstorm so we don’t waste time,” Tommy argued, pointing the end of his stick in the direction they’d been heading. “We know what we’re doing.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not the biggest fan of you moving through the woods with a broken leg.”

“I’ve got Jack with me!”

Jack’s gaze darted between Tommy and Phil as he grimaced.

Phil rolled his eyes. He took another glance away to keep the argument from escalating, to keep himself from growing angry. Thunder rolled above them. “Look, this is a really bad place to talk about this. For Jack’s sake, can we–”

“I’m not doing any shit for you anymore.”

“Will you please let me talk, Tommy?”

Tommy breathed in to talk, only to have his arm gripped by Jack, his first interruption in the conversation.

Phil breathed, sharp, stormy air filling his lungs. “I’ve seen this happen before. And I’m not sure whether it’s a lure, or if all of us are just that desperate. But no matter what, if you go all the way, the entire way...” He shook his head. “It’s not ending well, not for any of us.”

A pause. Jack’s hold on Tommy loosened. “You talk like this is personal.”

“When it involves... you,” Phil said, the last word coming out strained. “It is personal.”

“Oh, piss off!” Tommy’s explosion broke the brief moments they had that were almost coherent, his voice backed by crashing thunder. Lightning flashed above them, and it outlined Tommy in white. “Since when did you do shit like this for me? The only time you ever cared was when I can’t be watched over anymore! Is that it? Is that fucking it? You only care when you lose me?”

Hesitating, Phil scowled. He had to work out his words, before he said them and made things worse. “I realize, Tommy, that I made mistakes–”

“Bit too late for that, now, innit?”

He’d tried his best, he really did, but when he couldn’t get a single word in...

“Tommy,” he said through gritted teeth, and Tommy couldn’t even describe the expression as a grimace, more like a show of anger, of bared teeth, and for some reason, he didn’t seem surprised at all. “I’m trying to have a conversation,” Phil went on. “We can’t fix things if we don’t–”

“Can’t fix things when neither of us want to fix it, do we?”

That was where Phil faltered. For the briefest of moments, he questioned what he’d done to make Tommy so mad that he didn’t even want to repair it. “T-Tommy...”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Tommy bit back, reaching into his satchel as he turned to face the other direction. “We’re wasting time.”

Jack, out of all of them, seemed the most hesitant.

But Phil, it was anger he was feeling. At whom, himself, or Tommy, he couldn’t exactly say. But it was anger, surely, and the only way he could think of to weed it out was drag the attention he needed from the kid out of him.

Phil stepped forward, grabbing the satchel right off of Tommy’s shoulder. “What are you carrying around that you hid from me earlier?”

“Phil, what the fuck?!”

When Phil pulled the Eye out of the bag, he froze.

He couldn’t say he recognized it. But with absolute certainty, he knew the feeling he was getting, and it was the first time in a long, long time he felt true fear. 

Within that moment, he wasn’t watching Tommy. Wasn’t watching as he yanked his sword from his scabbard, wasn’t watching when he lunged forward and sliced it along Phil’s cheek, the sting of the wound yanking him back down to reality as the Eye fell from his hand and he staggered back, reaching for his own sword out of habit.

But all that stood in front of him was a silent Tommy, sword danging from his hand at his side, angry eyes wide and burning as he glared upward at Phil. Jack hovered over his shoulder, frozen in what seemed to be genuine fear.

Phil was frozen, too. 

Tommy returned from his thoughts. With scrambling hands, he returned his sword to his scabbard, picked up the Eye, and then his walking stick. He shoved the Eye back into his bag as he hobbled into the woods as quick as he could, Jack lingering on Phil’s gaze before he turned to follow. 

Thunder rumbled above him. The gods seemed to be laughing.

•••

“Tommy, what the fuck?”

“He–He was trying to get us to go with him,” Tommy stuttered, though there was no confidence in his voice. “He would’ve stopped us.”

“You’ll probably attack me after I say this,” Jack sneered, jogging to reach his side. “But I trust the guy with... who knows how long of magic history. Did you see his face? He looked mortified when he pulled out the Eye.”

“He’s just a pussy,” Tommy mumbled. He held the Eye out to Jack. “Light that, will you?”

Jack scowled as he slowly took the Eye in his hand.

Tommy’s eyes darkened. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I don’t know, man,” Jack replied, walking slowly in a small circle as he thought. “What happens when we get there? I mean, we’ve seen what the Nether does to us. Does to you. What happens when both of us step inside some... I don’t even fucking know at this point. We’ve got no good gear, we don’t even have any fucking idea if we can breathe the air in this place.”

There was a brief flash in Tommy’s eyes. As if that doubt Jack had was getting to him, something challenging his hope. But he forced it away, stepping forward with no regard for Jack behind him. The thunder was deafening and the lightning flashed blindingly in his eyes. “We wouldn’t... we would’ve not gone if that was the case,” Tommy replied, then spun around to face him. “You know how this shit goes. Go with your gut, ‘n my gut says go.”

“Why do you want this so badly?” Jack snapped, his voice rising. “Why don’t you just wrangle me into a portal, or something?”

Silence. Tommy turned away.

Then, after a moment, Jack scoffed. “You do want the wings.”

“Fuck you, man!” Tommy yelled with the thunder. “I’m not–I want this for both of us! This is the only fucking way–”

The look on Jack’s face rendered him silent. Glaring, cold, guilty.

“If you are going to kill yourself for this,” he said, slowly but sternly. “Then I’ll just... I’ll just step back through that portal. Then we’ll see if it’s me you’re really doing this for, or yourself.”

For a moment, all Tommy could respond with was a mess of stutters. He looked down at himself, his splinted leg, the tremble in his hands. 

And, surprising even to himself, he laughed. “Why do I do this shit to myself?”

Jack took a careful step forward. “We don’t need to do this, Tommy.”

The wind whipped at Tommy’s sides. He stared at the ground below him with anger, guilt. Fear. 

“I want to,” he said, finally. “You don’t have to follow me, if you don’t want to.”

Jack’s gaze darkened. A harsh gust of air caused him to shudder. “I do.”


	16. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Light themes of abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> E

Niki’s sword plunged through the Enderman’s chest, as Wilbur tugged out it’s heart for what felt like the millionth time that night. 

The dark corpse crumbled, a drenched Niki standing on the other side, catching her breath. “How many is that?”

“About fourteen,” Wilbur replied breathlessly, as he checked the bag at his hip. 

Niki nodded. “That’s plenty. We should start experimenting.”

Wilbur sighed, and nodded, holding the Pearl in one hand. He turned it at every angle, though it was as if the Pearl was a still image, never looking any different no matter which way you looked at it.

Whenever he looked at one of these, there was a small chill in his spine. But he had always ignored it.

“If there’s Blaze Powder involved,” Niki said, dragging him out of his thoughts. “Then there’s probably fire involved.”

Wilbur gulped. Why was he nervous all of a sudden? “R-Right.”

As the storm raged on around them, Wilbur was the one to start the fire while Niki made the best of the rain. While he was piling the driest sticks he could find, there was the occasional time where he’d look up, and Niki’s face would be craned up to the sky, a grin on her face as the rain pelted her. And Wilbur couldn’t help but grin, too.

The only thing that made the smile slip was Niki’s next question; “You think a Water Breathing potion would have an affect on me?”

Wilbur paused, briefly struggling to comprehend the question. “Uh, what?”

“Like how healing potions do the opposite on mobs,” Niki clarified. “Maybe that’s how it works with me?”

For a moment, Wilbur pondered the possibility. “I wouldn’t want to risk suffocating you to try it.”

“Just get me a glass of milk to curb it if it doesn’t work,” Niki replied, waving her hand dismissively. “Worth a try.”

“You’re terrible.”

“But it’s clever.”

Wilbur snorted. One, two, three, four scrapes of two rocks summoned sparks, and eventually, the little fire gathered it’s strength and created a golden glow against gray.

“Maybe we... put the Powder in the fire,” Wilbur asked no one in particular, resting his chin in his hand.

Niki leaned forward a little, her head just barely still out from the tree’s canopy. “Or the Powder on the Pearl.”

“We have enough of each to try both.”

Niki shrugged. “And there’s only so many things we can do with this.”

“Meh. We’ve got some time.”

And solving the puzzle only took a bit of it.

Niki was the one who decided to carve the Pearl open after a failed attempt with the Powder in the campfire.

“Ewwww,” she grumbled, the further she cut, the farther away she held the Pearl out in her webbed hand.

Wilbur smirked. “That’s so gross.”

“I wonder what it tastes like.”

“Okay, that’s doubly gross.”

Niki took a moment to mockingly go for a taste before she fell into a small giggle.

Wilbur snatched the Pearl out of her hand. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Silently, Wilbur took a far of Blaze Powder, and tipped it to pour it into the hole.

That sight of it below him...

He froze. A harsh sense of remembrance suddenly washed over him.

“Wilbur?”

Niki’s voice dragged him back. “Er—Sorry. Got distracted.”

The only response he got from her was a look of concern.

After pouring the Powder, Wilbur took the Pearl, covered the hole with his hand, and shook it harshly in front of him to spread the Powder.

The gold made swirls within the dark teal. “Aaaand fire,” Wilbur hummed, as he carefully dropped the Pearl into the campfire.

Another moment of familiarity flashed through his head, more overwhelming the second time. Like time was repeating itself and this was the moment drilled into his mind.

Exploding sparks and glowing purples were responded to by Niki with gasps and flinches.

Wilbur, though, his gaze was locked. The air in his lungs turned ice cold, and his hands clasped at his pant legs as some sort of revelation came to mind—all of this was done before, and the last time he did it, he died.

It was the slit pupil of the Ender Eye looking down at him that suddenly yanked him back years before then.

Years before, when he was moving through a field with hazy thoughts and clothes that smelled like smoke. Years before, when there were others at his side who’s faces were simply blurs in his memory. Years before, when there were dozens of Eyes in the sky, leading him to untouched land, where his sword shined in daylight where it was clutched in his calloused hand.

“Wilbur!”

It was Niki that brought him back. It was Niki that pushed reality into him, a reality where Wilbur couldn’t breathe and his thoughts had turned to gibberish.

“Are you okay?” Niki cried, her voice much too loud in his head, and he flinched away.

He struggled to comprehend what had happened for a long moment, only briefly unable to discern whether he was in the past or the present.

“Wilbur?”

The Eye dropped out of the sky, into the soaked grass, lightning glinting off it’s surface.

“I’m okay,” Wilbur said. “I just—I didn’t expect that.”

“Was it the Eye?” Niki asked, eyes glinting with concern. They widened when a thought seemed to cross her mind, and her hands on his shoulders tightened. “Did you remember something?”

“Just—just flashes,” Wilbur replied. “I had... I had friends. There were people with me, a whole team, we were going to the End.”

Niki was hesitant.

When Wilbur’s gaze lifted, he frowned at the sight of Niki leaning towards him, out of the rain. “Get back in the rain,” he exclaimed, gently pushing her shoulders back and out of the tree.

There was hesitation, there, where Niki almost didn’t want to go back across. But she listened, shifting to sit more comfortably while her eyes were glued on him as he recollected himself.

Wilbur breathed shakily, peering down at his hands that he wasn’t even sure were his. “Are... are you okay?” he croaked, looking Niki’s way. “Did, did the Eye do anything?”

“It floated in that direction,” Niki replied quietly, pointing over her shoulder. “I’m okay.”

Wilbur sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I want to find a way to let you walk before we go any farther,” he said. “It’s our best way at keeping you safe.”

Niki seemed to tell that it wasn’t the time to argue. She simply nodded, skin and hair glinting in the lightning that flashed. “Okay.”

•••

The flight back to Ranboo and Tubbo seemed to be nonexistent when Phil was too lost in his thoughts.

While the gods and their thunder goaded him from above, he found himself surprised that he was truly feeling guilty. A true, sharp, painful sense of guilt, one he hadn’t felt in quite a while.

When he thought he’d been flying for too long, he realized he missed where the boys were hiding out—because they weren’t there.

Without thinking too much of it, Phil soared down with his scabbard catching the brunt of his landing before his feet hit the ground.

Like he thought, the forest’s barrier was empty. He stepped beneath the trees, eyeing the greenery around him for any sign of the kids. “Tubbo? Ranboo?”

The darkness of the woods responded with silence. 

He never ignored the pit in his gut he felt. He moved slowly and carefully through the woods, pulling his sword from it’s scabbard as the lightning flashed above his head.

As he ventured deeper in, if there was no lightning, he was sure he would’ve missed a clear sign beside him–a tree’s bark, torn to bits by... something sharp.

A chill ran down his spine. As far as he knew, that looked fresh. Both his hands clasped together at the hilt of his sword.

How many kids did he have to corral again?

•••

15 MINUTES EARLIER.  
“I spy... something...”

Lightning flashed, followed by the loud crash of thunder rolling above the boys’ heads. “Something white,” Tubbo said.

Ranboo pouted, looking up to the darkening sky as the rain continued to pour outside the cover of trees. “That’s cheating, the lightning’s gone.”

“Cheating-shmeating. It’s not green, is it?”

Blinking, Ranboo glanced Tubbo’s way. “There are plenty of things around us that aren’t green.”

“Bitch, your eyes are green.”

“Why would you I-Spy my eyes? I can’t spy my own eyes.”

“That’s not the point!”

A particularly loud clap of thunder made them both flinch right out of their conversation. Both went quiet as they eyed the storm, where it continued to brew darker and harsher. The wind swept stray droplets beneath the trees, and Ranboo pressed himself against the tree to avoid them.

Tubbo stepped out an inch and watched the rain for a moment. “We should move farther in,” he said. 

Ranboo shook his head, wrapping his arms around his front to block the sharp winds. “No, Phil won’t be able to find us otherwise.”

“It’s Phil. He’ll find us fine. I’m not in the mood to clean up a melted Ranboo off the ground. Meltboo.”

“I’m not gonna–I’m not Meltboo. I’ll be fine.”

Tubbo scowled at him, almost pouted, before marching over and hooking his hands beneath Ranboo’s arms.

In surprise, Ranboo trilled, a deep sound from his second voice as he looked up at Tubbo behind him. “Hey.”

“I’m dragging you with me, off we go,” Tubbo exclaimed, pulling hard, though not getting far. “You’re too stubborn, big man. Do a little for yourself every once in a while.”

“It’s not that big a deal, really,” Ranboo muttered, his eyes on the sky as he watched the storm and whatever else might’ve been going on out there. “Phil will be back soon. Let’s just wait.”

Tubbo groaned, giving up on his tug in favor of dropping to a squat beside his friend and resting his chin on his shoulder. “I’m bored.”

“Wanna play I Spy?”

“Fuck you.”

Ranboo snickered, looking back out to the storm.

And then, suddenly, the lightheartedness between them was lost when a new feeling came to Ranboo; a gap in his gut, his blood running cold–a second presence.

His smile was gone, and he stiffened in his seat. “You see Phil anywhere?”

Tubbo’s head leaned closer to Ranboo’s as he eyed the sky. “Mm, not yet. He’ll be fine.”

Lightning flashed. Ranboo adjusted his seat, thinking about this second presence he felt without daring to let himself consider it a second pair of eyes. And, as much as he hated it, it wasn’t a gut feeling; a simple look, from anyone at all, was a new fuzz under his skin, a bug crawling in his veins. Not to mention eye contact.

“You good, big man?” Tubbo called. “You look like you’re zonin’.”

“Oh, I’m fine, just thinking,” Ranboo replied. As he slowly stood from the base of the tree, Tubbo’s chin disappeared from his shoulder. “I, I guess we could go a little deeper in,” he muttered, his gaze running over the field ahead in search of what could’ve had it’s gaze locked on him. He considered telling Tubbo, though what if it turned out to be a bird, or even Phil from far off?

“You cold?” Tubbo asked, following him as he wandered deeper into darkness.

Ranboo shrugged. “A little, I guess.”

“Do Endermen get cold?”

“Well, yes. Maybe not as much as you, I dunno.”

“Huh. Interesting. I’m freezing.”

“Oh. Uh, here.” Before Tubbo could protest, Ranboo shed off his purple shawl and reached over to splay it over his friend’s shoulders.

Tubbo awkwardly tripped over his words for a moment. The shawl was more like a cape on him due to the size, though it did it’s job either way. “Than-Thanks.”

Ranboo smirked stiffly, and nodded, the brief moment allowing him to forget his anxiety, just for a second.

They stopped not too far away from the forest’s exit, the field still visible, though only in pieces between the trees.and greenery. The leaves above their heads swayed in sync with the harsh winds, lightning shimmering along their surfaces.

“Do you think Tommy’s doing okay?” Tubbo asked, voice small.

Ranboo took a breath, unsure just how honest about his feelings he was willing to be. Considering their own luck so far, he found himself a little more worried than was probably even necessary.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” he said flatly.

But those eyes burning into his skin never seemed to blink.

Rolling thunder was his only response.

Ranboo leaned against a tree, his fingers fumbled together. “Do... do you still want to find the End for yourself?”

Tubbo hesitated. He rocked between his feet, head dipped in thought as he mumbled, “Yeah.”

Ranboo inhaled sharply. “I’ll come with you. If you want me to.”

A pause. When Tubbo’s head lifted again, he was grinning. “I’d like that.”

The burning eyes in his front made his skin crawl. For a brief moment, before he looked up, he wondered if it was just Phil and his anxiety was getting the best of him. After all, it hadn’t been the first time.

But, instead, within the darkness ahead up towards the higher parts of the trees, he saw an oddly shaped silhouette. What really caught this attention was the clear glint of a blade.

He didn’t speak, didn’t try to warn Tubbo—he instead shoved himself to his feet, spun around to act as a shield, and used every bit of hope in his body to get himself and Tubbo out of harm’s way.

The next thing he knew, him and Tubbo were a dozen feet away, the unevenness in their stances sending them stumbling sideways until Ranboo crashed into the side of a tree, Tubbo still held tight in his arms.

The thunder drowned out most sound, but Ranboo didn’t miss the laugh, the cackle he heard coming from the man he hated recognizing nearby.

Tubbo pushed out of his arms, speaking up before anyone else could. “How the hell did you find us?”

Schlatt, spider legs yanking themselves free from holes in the tree behind him, touched down on the ground and stepped towards them. Replacing his faux robes from before was a dark cloak, hiding most of a more casual look of darker traveling clothes. His shape was blurred in the darkness by his cloak, his spider legs the most defined as the protruded out the sides of his cape. “I might be a lot of things, bug boy, but I’m not an idiot. What, did you think I sold potions as a fake priest because it was fun?”

A pause. Ranboo looked down at Tubbo as he dug into his satchel and retrieved a pink healing potion, spinning it around to examine what in the world Schlatt could’ve been talking above. The only thing significant enough to grab their attention was a tag hanging from the string holding a small piece of fabric over the cork.

Though, on the tag, was some sort of mark neither of the boys recognized, but had the idea that it could’ve been what got them found.

Tubbo’s hold on the potion tightened as both boys looked up, to see Schlatt holding up a compass where lightning flashed in it’s surface.

Ranboo pulled the potion from Tubbo’s hand and yanked the tag off.

“Couldn’t hurt to try and follow,” Schlatt called, sauntering a bit closer. “I mean, nothing this fucking exciting has ever happened in my goddamn life.”

No one spoke. Schlatt took another step forward, and the only reason Tubbo retreated a little was because Ranboo’s hand on his shoulder made him.

Schlatt’s cracked grin widened, and he gestured the side of the compass upward, straight in Ranboo’s direction. “And look who it is! Uh, fuck. Fucking, what’s your name?”

Ranboo didn’t reply.

“Fucking—Something boo. I think. Ah, fuck it, it doesn’t really matter. You’re the Ender kid, that’s all I remember. You ran away when I least expected it. Color me impressed.”

Tubbo’s sword screeched as he yanked it from the scabbard at his hip. “Why did you follow us, anyway?”

“What other reason than this End shit? Who am I to just, just pass this up?”

“You got some fancy reason, too?” Ranboo mumbled, unsure if his words had even been heard over the storm.

Schlatt scoffed, stuffing his compass in his pocket. “No, I posed as a priest and murdered a couple people because I was down in the dumps.”

He suddenly gestured with sharp movements to the legs protruding from his back, his voice loud and harsh and angry as he added, “As if I had any other fucking choice! Do I need to give you the whole goddamn story, or do the both of you have eyes?”

The hand with his sword leaned forward. Ranboo pulled Tubbo back, only for him to yank out of his grip. “And you,” Schlatt said, with a slight chuckle to his words. “You, you struck a nerve. A few of them, actually. It’s pretty easy to forget I’m not the only one. I just have to wonder, how do you deal with it?”

Tubbo stiffened. The grip he had on his sword turned his knuckles white. “Deal... deal with what?”

Schlatt’s lip curled. “Being alive.”

A pause. Ranboo was rumbling as he watched.

After a beat, Schlatt’s head dipped. “At least, being alive, without sharing, you know? This, this is the kind of thing that alchemists will get their hands dirty for! They’ll, they’ll dig up a body, tear it apart to figure out what the fuck’s going on in there, and that’s just with humans. With us?” He waved the tip of his sword up and down Tubbo’s shape, then pointed it to Ranboo. “I won’t lie, I’ve been pretty curious too. Got a pretty gnarly scar from tryin’ to check myself out, but it’s cold out here, so I won’t show you.”

Ranboo stiffened. He pressed himself against the tree behind him, as if he’d phase through if he tried hard enough. His rumbling had intensified.

Schlatt’s expression suddenly contorted, tightening into a look of anger as his sword moved closer, aimed towards Ranboo. “Fuck sake. That sound, that goddamn sound, do you ever shut up—!”

Tubbo sliced sideways, a shallow cut along Schlatt’s forearm making him retreat.

His grip ever so tight, Tubbo glared down Schlatt, not letting Ranboo hold him back as he stepped forward and hissed, “Don’t fucking talk to him like that.”


	17. Another day, Another storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Light themes of abuse, Violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel as if I should clarify that my depictions of schlatt in this fic aren’t meant to throw any shade towards cc!schlatt, I wrote his character based on the inspiration his appearance in the first hybrid stream gave me, ideas of a villain hiding this secret side that actually made him fit in with the protagonists. what im saying is that fragrance man had a rad vibe and his character in this fic is entirely based on that vibe. thanks uwu

Ranboo hated having someone defend him. It felt... irregular, like he was being selfish for letting someone take the brunt of something that was aimed at him.

But in that moment, when Tubbo stepped forward and combatted something he was so used to hearing, he was frozen. The change was... jarring. And, yet, he still felt selfish—selfish for not doing this himself earlier.

He couldn’t think of that just then, though, he concluded. His gaze continued to dart back and forth between Tubbo in front of him, and Schlatt a few feet away.

The silence that had followed Tubbo’s challenge was just short of becoming awkward when Schlatt suddenly laughed, his head craning back while Tubbo’s feet inched just a little closer towards Ranboo’s behind him.

“You look like a fucking kitten compared to him,” Schlatt cried, voice still wavering from the aftereffects of his laughter. “What’re you gonna do? Bite my ankles?”

“You sure had a hard time killing me earlier,” Tubbo argued.

The humor in Schlatt’s face was immediately gone. Every change hit the man like a switch was flipped; nothing was ever smooth with him. He stepped forward, at a pace neither boys expected as he hissed, “Well, let’s try round two, shall we?”

Tubbo barely had a second to raise his sword, Schlatt’s bouncing off with a resounding clang.

Ranboo’s reaction seemed to suddenly jump into high gear, even when he himself hadn’t. He jumped forward, claws first, throwing his arms around Schlatt’s front and frantically trying to pull him off Tubbo.

Tubbo went to strike. Schlatt instead kicked him back, then used all his force to throw himself and Ranboo against the closest tree behind them. Schlatt’s spider legs wrapped around the tree, and within seconds, he was hanging above both of them, staring, as if to assess the situation.

Tubbo grabbed Ranboo with one hand and pulled him behind him. In a poor effort to give himself some credit between them, his shaking hand reached for the sword at his hip for the first time since Schlatt had arrived.

“Little team here, huh?” Schlatt called through the storm. Ranboo watched as he slowly put his sword somewhere beneath his cloak. His hands remained there, his entire form hidden by the fabric. “Cute. That’s very cute.”

Tubbo’s free hand wandered back. Ranboo didn’t hesitate to take it.

“Though, this doesn’t seem much like a team, rather than a... a person and a half.”

He removed something from his cloak. Ranboo only got a glimpse of the glint of a crossbow bolt before he threw himself forward to shove Tubbo and himself out of the crossfire, crashing into the dirt.

There was a click, and Ranboo just barely was able to spot a second bolt replace the last in Schlatt’s bow before he shot again.

“Double bow, double bow!” Tubbo cried, crawling out from under Ranboo before grabbing his sleeve and yanking him to his feet.

By the time another bolt was loosened, both of them were sprinting down the path, away from Schlatt.

But two eyes were still drilled into Ranboo’s back. “Tubbo, he—he can still see us.”

“Just keep running!”

A bolt cut through the air, just inches from where Ranboo’s head was before he ducked.

They kept running until they came across a cliff in the woods, where they moved through a gap that Ranboo just barely squeezed through before a bolt lodged itself in the stone two inches from his head.

Tubbo pulled him into a hole in the cliff, just ahead of a small gap in the trees where water was pouring in light amounts from the land above them.

Ranboo warbled when Tubbo shoved him in, then hid inside himself. Thunder crashed, as rain poured just outside the entrance, and it all suddenly seemed to become so much louder.

“Wait ‘til he passes,” Tubbo said softly, holding an arm across Ranboo’s chest to keep him in place. “Then we go back and look for Phil.”

The rumbling persisted, and Ranboo’s hand trembled as he rested it on the back of his neck. “I, I can’t stop. He’s gonna find us.”

“No, no, no, no, he won’t,” Tubbo replied, glancing at Ranboo just long enough to take his hand away from the back of his neck. “Storm’s too loud. He won’t hear you, I promise.”

Ranboo breathed shakily, his rumbles and trills a blatant show of his anxiety.

He didn’t expect for Tubbo’s free hand to lace into his, it just barely big enough to even fit into his palm. But either way, Ranboo held on like he was a lifeline, his only anchor that kept him from spiraling into a panic.

The anticipation that followed lasted much too long. Ranboo knew internally that Schlatt should’ve passed them by now, and the thought was enough for him to start to chirr over top the rumbles from the back of his throat. Tubbo’s grip on him tightened.

It took much too long, but eventually, a different sound hit their ears; a steady and slow thump, thump, thump, coming from the other side of the stone wall. Ranboo sunk against the wall behind him, the grip on his sword deadly.

One spider leg dropped in front of the mouth of the cave, followed by a cape that rocked back and forth as Schlatt landed. He rose his crossbow, it’s bolt–two, actually, the second locked behind the first, ready to load–flashing in the bits of lightning that cut through the trees.

Tubbo’s hand tensed in Ranboo’s. To his horror, Tubbo’s hand untangled from his, going to join his other on his sword. When Ranboo tried to speak, what came out instead was a chirrup he couldn’t control. 

The only response he got was a wave, a silent gesture by Tubbo to tell him it was okay. But Ranboo knew it certainly, certainly was not.

Tubbo rose to his feet. Another distorted sound escaped Ranboo’s throat, but he was locked in place, unable to reach forward, or call out, all coherent words locked behind his warbles. 

Schlatt paced a few feet away from the cave, crossbow ready.

The sword in Tubbo’s hand glinted in the lightning. 

And so did Schlatt’s crossbow. But Tubbo had stepped right in front of it.

Where Ranboo almost screamed as the bolt disappeared out of his view at Tubbo’s front, he was almost immediately rendered silent instead as Tubbo yanked the bolt out of his armor and lunged forward.

Schlatt tossed his crossbow aside, raising his sword just in time to block Tubbo’s blow, which bounced off dramatically and threw Tubbo sideways. 

Ranboo couldn’t hear whatever Schlatt was saying, but in the state he was in just then, it was unimportant to him. His claws scrambled along the stone wall as he pushed himself to his feet, frantically searching fr something he could do to help.

His hand scrambled for the knife he’d stored at his hip, something he told himself he’d only use for emergencies. As if this emergency could be dealt with with a knife not even the size of his hand. 

He flinched back from the mouth of the cave when the rain pummeled down and threatened to sweep inside. But then Tubbo’s sword flashing in the storm pushed the thought out of his mind, and he forced stiff, lanky legs forward.

A small trill escaped him as a few stray drops stung at his skin. He lunged forward towards the fight, right when Tubbo was forced back to run into a tree behind him. 

Ranboo pounced forward, his height giving him the advantage. He threw his arms around his neck, the tip of his knife aiming over his chest.

He didn’t get the chance to hit his shot before Schlatt threw all his weight forward, Ranboo’s knife hand wavering too far to strike before Schlatt grabbed his lost crossbow and aimed it upside-down over his shoulder.

Squealing, Ranboo let go of Schlatt and dropped just in time for the bolt to whiz over his head.   
Schlatt spun around, and clocked the crossbow over his head, taking advantage of his uneven balance and sending him to the ground. With a swipe of his cape, the rainwater Schlatt had collected was tossed forward and landed on Ranboo’s face.

He didn’t hear his own distorted screech while he was scrambling to use his sleeves to dry himself off.

Tubbo took over his vision, stepping in front of him and going for a slash. To Tubbo’s credit, his sword hit home, his blade slicing across Schlatt’s sleeve and leaving behind a dark cut that he quickly shielded with his free hand.

Tubbo went for another strike, though on top of his normal legs and the spider legs, Schlatt was too fast. His hand released from the cut and reached below his cloak, and before anyone could’ve responded, he was shattering a bottle on the ground. 

The air around them exploded into a hazy gray, blocking out the trees with fog and smoke that occasionally glowed in lightning.

Ranboo fumbled to his feet, squinting through the fog for... anyone. “Tubbo?”

“Ranboo!” Tubbo’s call was drowned out by the wind and thunder.

When Ranboo tried to step forward, tried to search the fog for his friend, he instead felt burning eyes on his back briefly before a crossbow clicked.

For the first time he could recall, somebody taller than him was shoving him back–taller only because of the legs on his back. The fog disoriented Ranboo as he was shoved backward, where he could already feel the wind intensify, where it was no longer blocked by the forest, the gap between the mountain and the woods.

Ranboo stumbled and fell backward. It was then when he really felt the storm, where he felt every agonizing raindrop, every burn that dug through his skin and into his veins. 

Schlatt’s shape loomed above him, his sword raising above his head. No hesitation. Not even a comment.

But within the smallest moment, barely even a second long, his eyes met his. A deliberate look, completely intentional. Ranboo knew it was, simply because of the hundreds of angry swears and insults that spread from his attacker’s head to his.

His body moved before his thoughts did. That glare in his eyes set a fire in his chest, hot enough to stifle the tiny sparks left by the rain pelting the rest of him.

As Schlatt’s sword came down, his hands went up.

Pinned between his palms was the blade, and Schlatt didn’t revert his eyes from his. It sent more and more raging rivers of a million words through Ranboo’s head, fast and overwhelming, and enraging. 

There was nothing human about the screech he let out, yanking the sword back to throw off Schlatt’s balance and pull him forward. Before Schlatt collapsed on him, he kicked forward, launching him back the way he came and sending him into the mud.

Schlatt grunted and swore. He still had his sword, but it didn’t matter.

Ranboo’s shape loomed above him, his claws raising up to his sides. No hesitation. 

Schlatt’s spider legs scrambled to get the rest of him out of harm’s way. But when Ranboo had an intent to move, he moved, quick and sharp and close. Schlatt couldn’t get around a tree blocking his way before Ranboo reached down, clutching his foe by the collar of his cloak and yanking him up. One of the spider legs caught a cut along Ranboo’s cheek, but it did nothing to stop him from slamming him into the tree, then tossing him aside.

Schlatt growled, an angered sound to shield his fear as he barely got to his feet before Ranboo shoved him down again. 

A new shape entered his vision from his left, through the now fading fog–a shape that, in Ranboo’s state, looked like a moving shadow, a blank form that didn’t matter. 

“Ranboo!”

Ranboo didn’t care for the voice calling his name. The shape stepped forward, and whatever grabbed his arm felt like a million thorns. It was a distraction, and so, he swiped it away with a harsh swing of his arm, whatever was holding him now gone.

Schlatt’s gaze darted backwards briefly, probably looking at whatever Ranboo had shoved away. When his spider legs tried to pick him up again, Ranboo was there instead, kicking them down with his foot while one knee pinned Schlatt to the ground at his chest.

His claws rose, and sliced across his chest. He heard no shouts, he heard no thunder, no wind. Just the millions of overwhelming thoughts that Schlatt had plagued him with, and his desperate need to get rid of them. 

Schlatt’s sword made an attempt to fight him back. Ranboo shoved his hand down, yanked the sword from his hand, and rose it above his head.

But he never got to strike before something crashed into him, something heavy and large enough to throw him and the stranger a dozen feet away, straight into the grass.

Ranboo screeched, struggling against hands that pinned his arms down at his sides.   
“Cover his eyes!”   
The voice was familiar, but not enough to cut through the storm brewing inside his head. The rain, the swaying leaves, the lightning he could see above him was suddenly blocked by a second set of hands covering his eyes. Though, they were loose, just barely touching his skin, but he could feel the subtle shake in them.

He struggled, he shuddered, yanked and pulled against the hold on him.

“Ranboo, it’s us. It’s your friends, it’s okay.”

That voice was the first thing that cut through the chaos, the first bit of recognition Ranboo identified. His struggling lightened, and a broken mumble of a sound escaped from the back of his throat.

“Keep talking,” a voice said. “He responds to you.”

“You’re safe, it’s okay.” The second voice was softer, but there was a tremble to it. “We’re not being attacked anymore. Phil’s here, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Ranboo warbled again. Though he was stiff, he hadn’t struggled in a moment.

“Can I uncover his eyes?” the second voice said. “I don’t like this.”

“I suppose it’d do him good to let him see you, but keep your eyes closed.”

The shaking hands over his eyes retracted, and Ranboo blinked upward to see Tubbo knelt over him, his eyes pinched shut.   
Ranboo heaved harsh breaths, eyes pinned on his friend hovering cautiously above him. When he tried to speak, his distorted sounds replaced any common word.

The hands on his wrists slowly loosened, then disappeared entirely.

Each time he attempted to speak, a warble would replace his words, as if he had no control over his own voice.

“It’s okay,” Tubbo breathed, his eyes still closed. “He’s not going to hurt us.”

“Are you hurt?” Phil asked, and Ranboo turned his head to see him knelt nearby, eyes hidden by the rim of his hat. 

Ranboo only trilled in response.

“Schlatt pushed him into the rain,” Tubbo said. “He’s probably burnt.”

Ranboo felt as if he were watching from far away, without any ability to respond. A once horrifically loud mind had suddenly gone silent, thoughts mucky and hazy and incoherent. His limbs felt like string.

“We’re gonna help you sit up, okay?” Phil called, the first thing Ranboo heard clearly in what felt like hours.

He didn’t get to respond before the hands that once held his wrists instead moved to his upper arms, guiding him to sit upright.

Ranboo examined the area nearby, gaze moving across the forest floor, the man rested against a tree a few dozen feet away.

Then, to Tubbo. Tubbo, who still had his eyes closed. And on his right cheek, there was a mark and scrape that wasn’t there before. Not from a blade; it looked to be from a strike. Or a fall.

The moments before then suddenly caught up to him, and Ranboo recalled the thorns that had touched him, thorns he’d shoved harshly off of him. Thorns that were really just Tubbo’s little, desperate hands. 

Ranboo warbled, his hand reaching forward to graze Tubbo’s shoulder. He flinched away from the brief touch, the tiny movement enough to make Ranboo’s heart lurch.

“We need to get out of this storm,” Phil called. He shifted forward, closer to Ranboo’s front, wings blocking the forest behind him so all Ranboo could see was him. “C’mon, mate.” His hands moved gently to his wrist, and went to raise his arm over his shoulder.

But movement over his shoulder caught Ranboo’s gaze. The only thing he could do was let out a broken distorted cry.

Phil only got a glimpse of Schlatt and barely moved before the sword came down, slicing between his wings. He shouted a curse as he reached for his own sword, but he wasn’t fast enough to block the next strike.

But Tubbo was.

There was no second blade. All that had stopped the strike was Tubbo’s trembling, outstretched hand, and the sword matched his shaking.

“The fuck?” Schlatt snapped, yanking on the sword’s hilt, as if it was lodged in an invisible wall.

Tubbo rose to his feet, and grabbed his own sword with his free hand. When he sliced forward, Schlatt stepped back frantically.

But Tubbo seemed ready, his other hand flicking, then swiping forward.

The sword spun around, then shot forward. Straight through Schlatt’s chest.

The man choked out a gasp. His knees buckled below him, as he groaned out, s as simply and harshly, “Fuck.”

“Tubbo,” Phil croaked. Tubbo spun around, the tension in his features loosening. He put his sword away, and stepped closer.

There was a deep gash running from the top of Phil’s left shoulder, down below his right wing, blood darkening the gray feathers.

“Oh, shit,” Tubbo breathed, his gaze darting between a still weak Ranboo and a bleeding Phil. “Oh, no.”

“I’ll be fine for now,” Phil said, taking Ranboo’s arm and going to stand. He winced in between kneeling and standing, a small exclaim of pain escaping no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “We need to get out of here. Help me with Ranboo.”

Tubbo gulped, glancing back at a heaving Schlatt behind him.

“He’ll—he won’t die,” Phil croaked. “He’s been through worse. Come on.”

Tubbo didn’t hesitate the second time, marching forward and taking Phil’s arm. He looped it behind his neck, while his other hand guided Ranboo to his feet, his hand holding tight to his. While Ranboo was still partially out of it, he was steady on his feet, able to follow as Tubbo trudged them all through the storm, into the woods.


	18. Tip of my Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Disassociation, Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this is super late cuz i wasnt at my computer but it's here now let's pretend that never happened lmao

Tommy couldn’t sleep. As much as he hated to admit it, what conspired between him and Phil had stuck with him.

Jack was huddled underneath his blankets nearby, hiding almost all of him from the outside world while he slept. During that time, Tommy was leaned against a tree, listening to the storm rage on above his head and the canopy of the forest.

When he got this way, he tried to distract himself. His first idea was to dig into Jack’s bag for the scrolls they’d found.

They felt heavy in his hold. Like the history had latched on and weighed them down.

Tommy breathed, opening the already unraveled scroll to look it over again. The splotchy silhouette, the man with triangles on his back, the portal frame…

Tommy scowled at the page, running a hand through his hair. It made total sense to him that these could’ve been Wilbur’s ramblings, and yet, he still didn’t like the thought.

He put aside the open scroll, then pulled free the red ribbon holding the other closed. He had to manually pull it open, as the years of it being closed ended with it becoming stiff and stuck in place. 

The ink on the inside was evidence of it’s age, as well, faded and spotty. But the actual contents were what caught Tommy’s attention.

More drawings. A person with triangles on their back, except the shapes were much smaller, and colored in with black, with the person wearing them sporting spots of black ink splotches across their body. 

Then another figure, drawn on the right with a shaky arrow pointing to it. Beneath that was a smaller drawn eye with a slit pupil, then beside it, a new shape. One Tommy quickly identified as wings, shakily drawn, but coherent enough.

Tommy’s heart picked up. He flipped the page, to see crooked writing, the coherency much worse than that of the drawings.

“They came from there and now they stopped speaking words. They weren’t speaking. They just started clicking, and screaming in my head.”

Endermen. Tommy grabbed the other page, and placed it next to the other, attempting to calculate what he was reading.   
Some sort of transformation, that was the first thing he could think of. Next thing was the wings; they matched the triangles on the figure’s back, so, these strangers had wings. 

“They came from there,” he recalled in his head. Strangers with wings, coming from there, associated with Endermen. From the End, then. People from the End?

People with wings.

Phil.

If he was reading right, he thought, then he was reading about people from the End turning into Endermen. Phil wasn’t an “official” avian, he remembered, never from any kind of flock. Then there was Ranboo, the weirdo, who looked uncomfortably similar to the dark silhouettes drawn on the ancient page. 

Phil was old. He knew that. Older than all of them combined. 

Who was to say that he wasn’t… one of them?

No, that’s insane. Ranboo’s completely separate from Phil, he’s got no wings.

But the pages, different… stages, of this “curse”? Was Wilbur on to something? Who was he trying to save?

If this told him anything, if they were true… 

Was Phil one of them?

“Tommy?”

Tommy gasped, looking up to see Jack rolled over to face him with part of his face covered by part of his blankets. “What’re you doing?”

Tommy gulped, taking the pages and holdign them close. “I was… I was reading the scrolls you found earlier. Looks like Wilbur was writing about some sort of curse.”

Tommy didn’t miss Jack’s tremble in his voice when he spoke. “C-Curse?”

Tommy tensed. “People from the End, Jack. Turned into Endermen. B-But maybe Wilbur was just nuts.”

“Who’s… who’s to say it’s not the trip that made him nuts rather than something before it?”

The way it was said, careful, unsure, it made Tommy squirm. It was said like they both knew that meant it could happen to them, too.

“Wilbur’s smart,” Jack continued. “He did this for a reason. A valid one, I’m sure.”

Tommy breathed, his fingers shaky on the pages. “I just… I’ve got a weird feeling.”

“What’s the theory?”

“W-Well, the people in this curse… they’ve got wings, Jack.”

Jack tensed under the blankets. “You… you havin’ thoughts about Phil?”

Tommy breathed deep, barely even able to comprehend the idea. “I wonder if he even knows.”

•••

The storm didn’t free Tubbo from Phil’s ragged breaths and Ranboo’s fearful rumblings. No one had spoken a word the entire time, too focused on getting out of harm’s way before there was any conversation to be had.

It felt much too long before they came across an open ravine, the grass and weeds spilling over the edge. There was a ramp leading downwards, jagged and uneven, but wide enough to allow a weak group down and into it’s caverns.

“Go down there,” Phil had said, barely able to be heard over the storm when his voice was so weak and ragged. Tubbo listened without giving him a response, leading the group downward until they reached a small tunnel.

Tubbo retrieved a torch from his bag, then pinned it in the dirt before turning to tend to the group.

Phil dropped to a knee, heavy and exhausted, as Tubbo stepped closer. “Do you need help?” he asked, shaky and unsure. 

Phil waved him off. “Take care of Ranboo first, make sure he’s…”

Calm. Tubbo nodded.

Ranboo was standing at the mouth of the cave, weak-kneed, head hanging. The rumble vibrated in the back of his throat, with the occasional cry of a shaky sound trilling through.

“Ranboo?”   
Ranboo’s only reaction to the call of his name was a quiet, distorted murmur, but Tubbo wasn’t even sure if he’d call it a reply. More like an acknowledgement. 

“Hey, big man,” Tubbo said softly. He naturally reached for his arm, until his memories kicked back into gear, and he remembered what had happened maybe an hour before. He took a shuddering breath, his hands hovering in front of him. “I’m gonna take your arm, okay? And then I’m gonna move you to the wall and sit you down.”

There was a long silence. When Tubbo was about to address him again, Ranboo finally responded with a small nod and tiny warble. 

When Ranboo flinched at his touch, Tubbo flinched too, but kept his touch there either way. They slowly approached the wall, before Tubbo placed his hands on Ranboo’s shoulders, and encouraged him to sit. Even sitting, he was very close to reaching Tubbo’s height.

“You okay?” Tubbo asked.

When Ranboo looked up at him, his expression was deeply pinched, and his only response was a broken warble. 

Tubbo breathed, and nodded. “Just give me… Just give me a few minutes, okay?”

Phil was staring his way when he looked over. “Okay. Okay, we, we should take care of you, right?”

With a grimace, Phil scoffed. “We only have fun times, don’t we?”

“Just, just tell me what to do.”

Face tense with pain, Phil nodded. He adjusted his seat so he was on his knees, and he unbuttoned the cloak he wore, down to the open backed tunic underneath. “I’m gonna need you to clean the cut off as best you can.”

“O-Okay.” Tubbo reached into his satchel, grabbing what he had of first aid. bandages and a rag, then lowering to his knees at Phil’s back.

Within the first stroke of the rag across his cut, Phil winced, hissing a swear through his teeth. “Ohhh, yeah. I’m feelin’ that now.”

Tubbo gritted his teeth, forcing his shaky hands to keep working. “Why didn’t you move? You could’ve…”

“He would’ve murdered Ranboo, I wasn’t taking that risk.”

There was only a brief moment of hesitation from Tubbo when Phil said it. But, again, he pushed himself forward, cleaning off specks of dirt and dried blood from around the cut. But even when old stains were washed away, it was replaced with dripping red coming from the cut. “It, it’s still bleeding.”

“Bastard must’ve gotten me worse than I thought.”

“I, I need to stop it.”

“Okay, calm down, it’s alright. Just get some water from the rain outside on a clean rag, put pressure on it.”

Taking a deep breath, Tubbo nodded and scrambled to the opening of the cavern.

Ranboo was silent nearby, staring off at a point neither of them could see. But Tubbo barely was able to think about that, when one of them was still bleeding.

He returned to Phil in a flash, quickly pressing the rag lightly against the cut. Phil tensed. “Press harder, don’t be afraid to put some pressure on.”

With a careful breath, Tubbo pressed harder, drawing a quiet harsh breath from Phil, just barely straining back a sound to keep from worrying his only hope.

Tubbo breathed shakily, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of red seeping through white.

Phil didn’t seem to be doing much better, tense and slouching, his body portraying everything that he couldn’t say just then.

“Tubbo.”

Tubbo shook himself out of his thoughts, quickly going back to pressing against the wound, the flash of pain causing Phil to finally grit out a, “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo breathed.

He was stuck watching as the rag under his hands turned red, and by the time it was completely dyed, the blood had lessened. “O-Okay, it, it looks like it’s stopped. Sort of, maybe.”

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to wrap it. Put it around the base of my wings.”

Tubbo paused, hands shaking. “But… you won’t be able to fly.”

“I wasn’t flying before you put the bandages on, either, mate. This cut is grounding me.”

Tubbo gritted his teeth.

“Tubbo.” Phil said it sternly, almost angrily.

Hesitantly, Tubbo grabbed the bandages from his bag and began to apply then.

“How’s Ranboo doing?” Phil asked, voice strained, probably only saying it to keep Tubbo focused.

He started wrapping the bandages from below the wings and up his shoulders. “Out of it,” he said. “I don’t know if he’s tired, or…” He shook his head, moving as carefully as he could, fighting the shake in his hands as he dressed Phil’s wound. “I thought looking him in the eyes just upset him. I’ve done it on accident once. He just started making sounds and got overwhelmed, and calmed down after we stayed quiet for a while.”

“It was probably Schlatt,” Phil croaked, then hissed out a swear when Tubbo went over another cut. “This is the only time you’ll ever hear me blame the victim.”

Tubbo pulled the bandage taut, and Phil winced, before he secured it with a knot. “Do you think…” He glanced Ranboo’s way, to see him still dazed. “Would he do that again?”

A long bout of silence followed. Phil sighed, flinching at the irritation the bandages brought with the movement. He swung his cape over his shoulders and secured it, hiding the bandages underneath, though his wings were weak at his sides. “Not to us,” he said, finally. “I haven’t known Ranboo long, but the kid apologizes constantly just for existing. I don’t know what he’s gone through, nor do I have much desire to, but the kid seems alright.” He sat a little straighter, his gaze wandering to Ranboo at his left. “I don’t think he’d ever hurt us on purpose.”

Silence. Tubbo’s hand grazed the scrape on his cheek and the bruise forming below it. That was an accident, he reminded himself. He didn’t know what he was doing.

Phil looked Tubbo’s way for a long, silent moment. “He listens to you,” he said. “And I don’t want to overwhelm him. But if you need a second to relax…”

“No,” Tubbo replied, shaking his head. “You, you relax. I’ll go check on him.”

Phil’s only response was a silent nod.

The exhaustion was catching up with Tubbo, then, his sword on his hip feeling much heavier. He unlatched the belt and tossed it aside, only to cringe when the loud clang made Ranboo flinch in place. He was sitting with his legs up, arms hugged around them, eyes dazed and staring off into nowhere.

“Hey, big man,” Tubbo called, lowering to sit at Ranboo’s right, slowly and gently. “I’m gonna sit next to you for a while. Is that okay?”

He got a chirp in response. The rumbling was loud, louder than it ever had been, and the sound seemed to shake his brain.

“Can I touch you?” Tubbo asked, removing his glove quietly, slowly.

It took a moment, but eventually, Ranboo nodded, with a little chirp of confirmation following.

Tubbo rose his hand, resting it on the back of Ranboo’s neck, where he could feel the vibrations, like a cat’s purr. It seemed as if the sound, rather than alerting him to danger, was a coping mechanism—something he used to calm himself down, and the louder it was, the more distressed he felt.

It was uncomfortably loud in that moment.

“Can I see your hands?” Tubbo asked.

Ranboo didn’t answer. “Ranboo, can I see your hands? I want to help the burns.”

Silence. But Ranboo lifted one hand, leaving it hovering instead of extending it himself.

Tubbo took it in both hands, and flipped it so his palm was facing the floor.

Dark spots marked his skin. The tiniest bits of what Tubbo could’ve called fur had turned a gray color. Already scarring.

Tubbo paused, holding his breath as he lifted his gaze and tried to examine his face. There, too, were some spots, though not as harsh as those on his hands. Those could heal on their own.

“Can I take care of these?” he asked, still holding Ranboo’s hand. He got a small trill in response, followed by his nod.

Tubbo was slow and careful, as careful as he could be with shaky hands. “I, uh, can’t really use ointment or anything on these,” he said quietly. “But it’s worth covering them up so, so they don’t get infected.”

A particularly bad burn made Ranboo wince, a distorted whimper rumbling in the back of his throat as he hid his face in his knees.

“Sorry.” Tubbo went slower. “I’m almost done with this hand.”

The time it took felt agonizing, but eventually, his right hand was wrapped, and Tubbo was reverently goading his other hand from his knee and beginning to repeat the procedure.

He noticed, when he was almost done, how the rumbling had lessened, just a little.

“There, here.” Tubbo returned his hand to his knee, then leaned back against the wall behind him. “Done.”

Ranboo didn’t respond, falling still where he sat. Tubbo breathed, the tiredness catching up with him, everything feeling heavy.

It seemed both had been lost for words.

But when Tubbo was lost in hazy thoughts, a subtle touch on his shoulder brought him out of his head. He looked up, to see Ranboo’s gaze diverted downward, but is shaking fingers were grazing his shoulder. Hesitant, he lifted them a little farther, only briefly touching his bruising cheek, before dropping his hand again.

“I…” His normal voice was broken, and a warble backed the word, as if he were trapped speaking somewhere in between. He took a breath, and tried again, though the chirps were still there, and his common speak was distorted, barely coherent. “I’m sorry.”

Tubbo frowned, exhaling shakily as he reached over and placed a gentle hand on his forearm. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean it, I know you didn’t.”

Thunder shook the walls around them. The rain never relaxed.

Ranboo flinched at the thunder, his hands raising to hover over his ears, as if he didn’t have the energy to block them fully.

“Everything must be pretty loud, huh?” Tubbo asked, his gaze wandering over to Phil nearby. He was digging through his bags, wings limp at his sides. Tubbo took a breath, leaning sideways against Ranboo’s side. “Maybe we should just rest.”

He couldn’t say if he ever got a response. All he got afterward was silence.

•••

Wilbur had been staring at the Eye unblinking for almost a minute as it hovered through the air. As if it would bring back anything else, activate some other long hidden memory.

“Look where we are.”

Niki’s voice was faint over the rain, her tone soft. Wilbur broke through his thoughts and followed her gaze, to see that they’d broken through the forest and arrived at the shores of the ocean.

Wilbur smirked, looking Niki’s way. “This isn’t the same shore, is it?”

“No, we’ve been walking for a few days, this is more up North. I recognize the difference.”

Of course she would. Wilbur smiled to himself, extending his hand to catch the Eye as it fell out of the sky.

The ocean’s waters kicked at the shore, dark and loud as the storm launched waves that crashed on to the land.

“This is a terrible storm,” Niki said, partially to herself. “I haven’t seen one this bad in a while.”

“It was storming pretty bad when we got you to the lagoon.”

“Not as bad as this.” There was sorrow in her tone, and Wilbur caught on quick.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She looked his way, finally, pink hair slick against her face with the rain, and she didn’t even care. “Did I ever tell you what happened to my friend? The one that gave me the knife?”

At that, Wilbur frowned, thinking back to the shining knife he kept in his bag. “You never went into detail.”

Niki paused, glancing down at her feet, where grass blades and dirt were glued to her skin by the rain. “It was a storm, just like this. I had planned to meet her far off from the shore, but with the storm, I didn’t think she’d come. But, when I got there, there she was, on her ship. With… with another ship, trailing her.”

Wilbur frowned, wincing at the way her voice broke as she continued.

“An enemy ship,” she clarified. “They attacked, took her in. I lost her that night. As well as most other mer-folk in the region. You see, my friend… my, my love, she… she was the only one that knew the reef was there.”

Thunder rolled. There was a break in Niki’s voice that she struggled to hide.

“I’m sorry, Niki,” Wilbur called, placing a hand on her shoulder.

A grimace flashed on her face. “You know, when you suggested the possibility of me being able to walk on land with something from the End, I… I considered trying to find her family. She said she’d missed them. I wanted to let them know what had happened.”

“Well, if we can pull this off, we can. I’ll even go with you, if you like.”

The grimace on Niki’s face finally broke way into a smile. “If this works… I’d like that.”


	19. Underestimation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Impalement, Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello thank you guys for the support :]]] I wish I could really tell y'all how much I appreciate it but all i can do is just thank you a million times so thanks

2 YEARS AGO.

Niki learned a long time ago to never underestimate the ocean.

So, it was often when she found herself worrying over her friend when the waters were particularly angry. But that night was the worst of it—the ocean’s protest against what should’ve been forbidden.

Niki learned to never underestimate the ocean, but she wasn’t going down without a fight, either.

She moved below the waves, where they rolled like moving hollow mountains above her head. Pumping her tail against the current, she broke the surface, searching the darkness around her for a change in visuals.

Though, the world was pitch black this far from land, only briefly able to see the white caps as they passed her by.  
Her body rocked up and down the violent waves, thrown to and from, while her gaze continued to dart back and forth along the ocean, it’s horizon line completely invisible in the darkness of the storm.

Lightning flashed. The brief moment gave her a view of a dark shape lingering on the sea.

Almost immediately, she began the trip.

She felt the water beat against her, but she fought it’s strength and continued moving until the lightning once again filled the underwater world in hazy, brief light. It confirmed her route, and by the time she could see through the dark water, she could see the ship. She broke through the surface, slicking back her hair as she looked up to the rails, to the large shapes of sails, to the hundreds of ropes latching to the sides.

“Someone there?” she cried to the sky.

Only a moment passed before a new shape entered her vision, illuminated by golden light to fight off the cold blues of the storm.  
The figure holding the lantern was a young woman, her dark, curved hat placed over white curls pulled into a thick braid that draped over the shoulder of her trench coat.

“Niki,” the woman called, a wide grin spreading on her face.

“Puffy. I, I didn’t expect you to come out here, this storm is awful.”

“I needed to see you. I needed to,” Puffy replied, leaning far over the railing and peering down at her. “I needed to talk to you.”

“Is there something wrong?” Niki asked with a frown. 

A pause. Puffy breathed, glancing over her shoulder into the ship. “Do... Do you still have that knife I gave you?”

“Of course.”

“I need you to hold on to it.” Again, she looked over her shoulder. “I... I might not be able to return.”

Immediately, Niki frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not safe,” Puffy explained. “I wish I could stay with you. I fought the storm to say goodbye.”

“Puffy...”

“I’ve done something stupid, Niki. So stupid. I, I didn’t think...” She breathed. “I’m not here to make you worry. I wanted to tell you how lovely it’s been to know you.”

Niki’s words caught in her throat. There were a million things she could’ve said, that she wanted to say, but couldn’t will herself to. She rose her hand to the ship’s side, pressing it against the wood of the hull. “You’re not...”

“I’ll be okay,” Puffy said through a broken, hesitant smile. “Especially after I know that you will be, too.”

“What will I do?” 

Puffy hesitated, her smile broken, hesitant. “Keep going. You’ll be okay.”

Niki couldn’t speak again before she heard a whiz through the air coming from the other side of the ship.

No one could react before it was followed by a loud crash, and the rocking ship slammed into Niki’s side, shoving her into the ocean. 

On top of cold lightning was warm fire, the color streaking across the ripples of the surface above her head.  
Niki grew stiff. The ocean fought her down, and she could only watch as the ship continued to be rocked and pounded by cannon balls from the golden lights of another vessel down the way. 

Niki gritted her teeth, fighting the current to reach the surface again, but the ocean was persistent. 

The ship’s creaks and moans vibrated through the water. 

But, then, something new. Something different broke through the surface–a silhouette. Puffy’s silhouette.

Puffy sank, slow and silent, a trail of red leaking towards the surface from her front.   
Niki’s heart lurched in her chest. She fought through the water, her hands scrambling to reach for Puffy as she lowered. Niki was soon above her, frantic hands grabbing at her shoulders, her sides, unable to speak, only to stare.

And Puffy was there. There, for just a few moments longer, her eyes blearily staring into Niki’s, fading, closing.

Her hand, too, reached for Niki. In search of Niki. 

But it didn’t find it before her gaze fell flat.

Niki regretted underestimating the power of the ocean.

•••

The storm seemed to have no intention of stopping any time soon.

It’s smell was still strong, Phil found, and the rain had never let up in any way. The boys at his right had been sound asleep for a while, Tubbo leaning against Ranboo’s shoulder, the latter with his head on the former’s. 

Aside from the storm, it was quiet. The inside of the cave was peaceful, the most peaceful location they might’ve found in a while, and for all the wrong reasons.

His back ached. With the adrenaline gone, the cut was much more apparent, and it’s ache had spread into the joints of his wings that were laid limp at his side.

He was sat at the cavern’s mouth, watching the rain fall into the ravine below him. Though the worry of the hours before had faded, the tension was still there, and he couldn’t ignore his concern for the kids behind him, as much as he might’ve hated it.

He’d been resting casually for the time being, until he heard a sound behind him–rustling, followed by one of Ranboo’s quiet trills. Phil looked over his shoulder, to see Ranboo’s head lift up and look around with a hazy gaze.

“Hey, mate,” Phil called, twisting around to face him.

Ranboo never looked his way, barely acknowledged him.

“How you feelin’?” Phil called again. “You doin’ alright? How’s the head?”

A broken warble was his response, and Phil couldn’t even say if it was towards him or not. “Looks like you’re still a little stuck, then,” Phil said. “You hearin’ me?”

Ranboo looked one way, then the other, like he was trying to remember what had happened. A little sound rumbled behind his closed mouth, before he finally made a new sound; quiet and hesitant, “H-Hear... you...”

“There he is,” Phil said. He stood, slowly and carefully, though it still jostled his wings in a way that made him audibly wince. “Fuck. We’re all doin’ just great, aren’t we?”

Ranboo didn’t reply, his gaze still wandering, breaths still shallow. Tubbo remained sound asleep at his shoulder.

“But, we’re doin’ better than we were a few hours ago, so that’s something.” Phil stepped a little closer, still careful on his feet. 

“Are you...”

Ranboo’s words were broken and distorted, still. It was almost as if he was still learning the language, and couldn’t break the habit of speaking in a beast’s voice. “Okay?”

A brief smile slipped past Phil’s flat demeanor. “Just a little beat up, mate. Nothin’ to worry about.”

Silent, Ranboo’s gaze wandered, and he was still for a long moment.

Phil frowned, lowering to sit half a dozen feet away from him. Tubbo was content, the most calm he’d been in a few hours. “You still a bit out of it, then? You want me to talk?”

Ranboo’s gaze was glued to the ground, on his hands folded in front of him. He didn’t give him a response.

“Ranboo?”

“Y-Yes, please.” Still broken, still distorted. 

“What about? Anything?”

No reply.

“I’ll just talk about anything, then. So, the way I met Wilbur, I was off on a hunting trip. I came across this little village, it was abandoned, and I was staying in this little cabin. And this place was making all these noises, the wood was creaking, I was hearing footsteps. When I thought it was haunted, I didn’t think I was actually right.” He scoffed. “Wilbur and I... We kind of just naturally hit it off. I don’t think I’d ever be able to explain to you why. Not Wilbur, either. He always said there was just something he liked about us.”

Ranboo chirped to himself, his gaze darting upward only briefly.

Phil grimaced. “Wilbur likes you quite a bit, too. Really, he likes everyone—“

Thunder crashed, shaking the stone walls, and Ranboo’s immediate reaction was to clamp his hands over his ears and dip his head.

The sudden movement jostled Tubbo awake.

“Hey, you alright, mate?” Phil stepped closer without a second thought.

But Ranboo seemed to distracted to notice just then, claws digging into his hair as he fought the sound.

Tubbo looked up, blinking out of sleep as he adjusted his seat to get a better look at Ranboo.

“Ranboo,” Phil insisted, shifting closer and raising his hands. “Stop...” He glanced Tubbo’s way, and stalled his words in response to his worried glare. Phil cleared his throat, his hands pausing mid-air. “Can I touch you?”

Ranboo croaked a deformed sound, odd even for the moment. Then, with a strained, distorted voice: “Yes.”

Phil recalled Tubbo’s previous connections with him, and removed his gloves accordingly. Stiff and hesitant, he took Ranboo’s wrists, and guided his hands out of his hair. “None of that,” Phil said, softly. “Please don’t hurt yourself.”

Ranboo breathed shakily. Despite his attempts, it seemed his voice would not return to normal, his second voice persistent. “I-It’s loud.”

“All those thoughts really got to you, huh,” Phil said, quietly.

Tubbo reached over, only for Phil to hold up a hand. “It’s alright,” he said softly. “You don’t need to be there every second. You need the rest.”

Ranboo slowly looked Tubbo’s way, automatically hiding his hands under his arms at the sight. “Yeah... T...” He made another warble, replacing what probably would’ve been Tubbo’s name. “You... rest.”

“But...” Tubbo fell silent under both their gazes. He shifted away, but he didn’t leave, antennae relaxing back.

Phil turned back to Ranboo, hesitant in his words, still stiff, unsure. “Is... is there anything I can do? Can, can I help, somehow?”

Ranboo shook his head, once again hiding his eyes. “Just... loud,” he croaked. “Need... Need rest.”

Phil sighed, glancing out the mouth of the cave. “We won’t be able to go anywhere until the storm is over, anyway. And I’m grounded, I won’t be able to scout ahead.”

Ranboo warbled, catching Phil’s attention again. It seemed to take the kid a moment to recalculate his thoughts and words. And, yet, the plenty of time he’d been speaking mostly coherently, his second voice was still out of his control. “G-Ground...?”

“Nothin’ to worry about, mate. I’ve been through worse, I’ll probably be good in a few days.”

Ranboo’s gaze once again diverted downwards.

When Phil looked Tubbo’s way, he was stunned briefly by the look he got back—was it concern? Confusion? Anger? If Tubbo was feeling anything but content, he was hard to read, so Phil had to turn away.

“So what do we do now, then?” Tubbo asked, voice deep and stern.

Phil hesitated. “I... I found Tommy and Jack when I left earlier. They had...” He sighed. “I think we need to stop somewhere before we go any farther.”

“Where?” Tubbo demanded.

“My place.”

•••

“You doin’ okay, big man?”

Jack followed Tommy close behind with his blankets and hood shielding him fr the storm, the only thing exposed being his face. “Peachy.”

“If we need to stop, let me know.”

“Nah. We only have fun times here.”

The Eye dropped from the sky, and Tommy extended a hand to catch it as it dropped. “I wonder how long we’ll have to travel.”

“I don’t imagine that an interdimensional frame that no one has ever seen in, like, a hundred years will be easy to find.”

“Ugh. I’m not sure if I can go for another fucking week.”

“Well, we still got the chance to turn around. I know you probably don’t want to, but I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jack took the Eye from Tommy’s hand, and went to ignite it. 

Though, nothing happened, and no one was surprised.  
Jack’s expression darkened. No one needed to mention it; the fact was already enough for that moment. 

Tommy retrieved a torch from his back, while also struggling to keep hold of his walking stick. “Fuck sake,” he muttered, holding the walking stick beneath his arm while he attempted to light the torch.

Cutting through the dark grays of the storm a moment later was the golden glow of the torch. 

The first thing he saw was a dark shape a few dozen feet away, slumped against a tree.

“The fuck?” was Tommy’s first reaction. When Jack stepped closer, the same thing seemed to show on his face without even saying it. 

The dark shape nearby shifted in the shadows, but Tommy didn’t miss the glint of a blade... coming out of his back?

“Since when did people hang out on this side of the woods?” Jack whispered.

Tommy scoffed. “Since when did people get fucking stabbed on this side of the woods?”

“Should we help?”

Hesitant, Tommy silently moved forward. But he was interrupted by Jack only a moment later, looking back at him under his hood. “Let me lead,” he said. 

Tommy scowled. “The guy doesn’t look to be in any better shape than I am, man.”

Jack shrugged, not giving into the argument before he turned and continued pacing. Sighing, Tommy went to follow.

When they got closer, Tommy could hear the man; his quiet grunts and cusses, harsh breathing. Wasn’t sounding good on his part.

Tommy shoved past Jack when they were a few feet away. “Hey.”

The man spun around, and the boys behind him flinched back at the sudden movement.   
Bleary dark eyes looked the boys’ way, hardly focused, a deep scowl moving lines above and under his eyes. 

The sword was bigger than Tommy had initially assumed, going all the way through his ribs and back, and the hilt wasn’t even touching his chest. “Fuck,” Tommy said. “You got fucked up.”

A wheezing, breathy laugh escaped the man, as his head dipped. “Yeah. Yeah, I got f-fucked up, alright.”

“How long have you been out here?” Jack asked. 

The man through his hand up in a shrug. “Fuck, few hours?”

Tommy blinked. “How the fuck are you still alive?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve been through worse? Not to say I’m enjoying this.”

“Do you need help?” Jack asked, only to be stopped by Tommy grabbing his arm. 

But the man had heard him already. “Could I ask that of you?”

“What good am I if I don’t help a stabbed guy out in the middle of the woods?” Jack said, then turned his attention to Tommy. “You got bandages?”

There was a moment where Tommy almost refused. If he knew anything, it was to be careful of who you helped. But who was he if he didn’t help someone who had a slim chance of being innocent?

At least that was a decent lesson he learned from Phil. 

“Yeah.” He dug into his bag, and took out a few rolls of soft bandages.

Jack breathed. “Uh, okay. This is gonna suck.”

The man waved his hand. “Uh-huh. You wanna get it over with?”

With a nod, Jack stepped forward, hesitantly taking the hilt of the sword. The man looked down with an arched brow at the gold scales on his fingers. “What the fuck is goin’ on with your fingers?”

“Uh, long story,” Jack replied. “Ready?”

The man inhaled sharply. Tommy stepped closer, ready to help as soon as he needed to.  
“Fuck, I guess,” the man said through gritted teeth.

Jack took a breath. “Alright. One, two–”

He didn’t finish, yanking on the sword when they least expected it. The man didn’t scream, only groaned through gritted teeth, and as soon as he sword was gone, he stumbled free and fell back against the base of a tree.

Tommy dropped to kneel next to him, unraveling the bandages and moving aside the cape hiding the wound that looked pitch black in the darkness of the storm. 

Jack stood dumbfounded nearby, bloodied sword, dangling in his hand.   
Tommy didn’t bother wasting time and blood on getting his shirt off, instead just pulling it tight over the tunic to get as much pressure in as possible.

The man wheezed out another laugh, which fell into a weak cough, a trail of blood sinking down his chin.  
“How the fuck are you still alive?” Tommy breathed.

“Dumb fucking luck.”

Jack was still nearby, the sword dripping blood on to an already wet ground.

After a moment, while Tommy was still working, the man’s dazed gaze lifted to Jack. “Can you give me that back? That’s mine.”


End file.
